The Lost Ones
by bellacatbee
Summary: Lost Boys/Supernatural AU: After losing his job John Winchester takes his sons across country to stay with his old friend Bobby Singer. However their new start isn't all it seems. Dean/Cas, Sam/Gabriel, Adam/Michael.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't the first time that Dean was glad he had a motorbike. It wasn't the first time that he was glad he could escape the car and his brothers and his dad. They were coming up to town now, the breeze from the sea colder and sharper than he'd noticed before. But he was free, and with a rev of the engine, he was racing ahead, past the sign that welcomed them to Santa Carla, and as he glanced over his shoulder to check that the car filled with their stuff was still following, he saw the scrawled graffiti on the back of the sign –"Murder Capital of the USA", and a shudder ran up his back that wasn't just a result of the wind.

He slowed, pulling in behind the car and getting the full force of his father's glare via the rear-view mirror. He didn't bother rushing off into town to explore on his own, although that had been his plan originally. It was probably for the best, even if John's mood had been gradually improving as the end of their road-trip came to an end, Dean didn't think that the old man's mood was good enough yet for John to restrain his temper if Dean just took off for a few hours and avoided the unpacking and the rest of it. He remembered Bobby, their dad's old army friend, but the visits were infrequent and as the money had disappeared, these little trips West had disappeared too. But now they had nothing to tie them to Kansas anymore, no house, no jobs, no nothing. Maybe this would be the fresh new start their dad hoped it would be. Maybe it would do everyone good.

John had been dreading the drive down if he was honest with himself. Moving the kids half way across the country because it turned out he was a terrible provider hadn't been in his plans and as much as he'd tried to cheer Sam and Adam up during the journey, telling them how they could go swimming every day and camp out in the backyard he knew it wasn't what either boy had wanted to hear. It had almost been a blessing Dean wasn't in the car with him; giving lip about how he'd pulled Sam and Adam out of school and uprooted them, as if John was unable to get a job out of spite. He hadn't seen Dean putting his back out to get any legitimate work either, although Dean always seemed to have money when they needed it. Perhaps moving him out here would be good for all of them in the end. He could channel Dean into something more wholesome than hustling pool which is what he damn well hoped his son did to get that extra money. It would be an experience for Sam and he needed his horizons broadened a little. Adam he hoped would just make friends. He was going to a new school now. Old life left behind. He could be his own person here and not a shadow of his older brothers.

But as John turned off the tarmac and onto a dirt track that led them out of town, he wondered if this was going to be what they'd expected. Dean had stopped too, looking around, a little lost. He certainly couldn't remember Bobby's place being as weird as this. There were charms, wind-chimes, hung from fence-posts and tree branches, animal skulls tacked up about the place. The noise of the wind through the chimes and the general tumble-down look of the place didn't exactly scream 'welcome', but Dean had no chance to ask his father if Bobby might have gone senile when the man stepped out onto the front porch, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed them. John and Bobby talked on the phone all the time. It was Bobby who'd suggested that they come up and live with him when the bank foreclosed on the house, but when you were talking to someone on the phone you couldn't see that they'd started hanging dead birds on a newly erected barb-wire fence. What in the world was he letting his boys in for, John thought as he stopped the car, taking the keys out of the ignition but not putting them in his pocket just yet. Just in case. He opened the door, stepping out and raised his hand - half to sheild his eyes from the glare of the sun and half in greeting to Bobby. The slam of the car door behind him told him that Sam and Adam had managed to get themselves out.

"What time to do you call this, you idjit? I was expecting you yesterday." Bobby said, and then came down the steps to meet his old friend, and look over the Winchester boys.

"Yesterday? Where you expecting me to drive though the night?" John wasn't going to risk causing an accident with Sam and Adam in the car, and not when Dean was out on that stupid contraption of his. No, they'd all been better off sleeping in a motel for the night and going on the next day. "We're here now, aren't we? That's what matters."

Bobby shrugged, "You would have driven all night, once. You're getting old." He said, and stopped in front of the man and the three boys.

John placed a hand on Adam's back, aware that Bobby had only heard about Adam before, never actually seen him in the flesh. He guided his youngest forward. John Winchester loved his kids, that much was clear, but it was in a very John Winchester way. A sort of fierce, frightening way that demanded respect but, Bobby was sure, didn't always get it. "Bobby, you remember Sam and Dean, of course, and this one is Adam."

Always polite Adam nodded in greeting. "Dad's talked a lot about you. It's nice of you to put us up." He said and John wondered if Adam didn't realise that Bobby wasn't putting them up till they got back on their feet. This was their home now. Or maybe Adam did realise that and was just choosing to ignore it.

Bobby looked over Dean and Sam quickly, as if the years hadn't changed the two oldest much at all. But Adam he had never met and he moved his eyes over him, almost critically, before nodding his acceptance. "You two can share a room, can't you? You and Sam? Not got the room to keep you all separate."

Sam hefted his bag, full of books, onto his shoulder and rolled his eyes at Bobby. "How do you think we slept at Dad's? It was hardly a palace." He said. He'd been used to sharing a room now for a while. First with Dean and then with Adam. It was just going to be in a different bedroom but that would be the only change. Dean would still have somewhere else to sleep and so would their dad. At least maybe this room would be a bit bigger. For a guy who lived on his own Bobby sure seemed to have a big house.

"Me and your dad never slept in palaces either." He said, not to belittle the boy's comment, but smiling slightly as he said it, although the beard mostly covered that. "You boys go on in." He said, gesturing back to the front door, horse-shoes tacked above it.

Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a heavy, oddly lumpy bag in his arms. The Winchesters weren't known for their packing skills- everything had just been thrown into the bags they had, or boxes picked up from the market and then dumped in the car haphazardly at first, and then shoved in as they piled in more and more.

"The big guest room?" Dean asked Bobby, pretty sure he could remember the way- up the stairs, to the left, passed the bathroom, there it was. It was a big room, or it had been when he'd been a kid. It'd do Sam and Adam, they wouldn't be on top of each other at least. Bobby nodded and Dean called to his brothers, "Grab some stuff, follow me." Before heading inside, leaving Bobby and John alone. Not that he thought the two of them needed to talk, although god only knew their dad probably should. He wasn't a talker, none of them were- he just drank when he had stuff on his mind- like Dean did. But John probably could, and would, talk to Bobby, even if he couldn't talk to his sons. Or drunkly slur things at him anyway, and maybe that was good enough.

"They're not bad." Bobby was saying as led the others away, fingers sliding to his pockets, not sure if after all the years and everything that had happened to them both if a physical gesture of welcome was necessary. "There's beer in the fridge."

"Think you two will be okay here?" Dean said, once they were inside, and he kept his voice soft, out of hearing. The place was creeping him out a bit, making his spine tinge but John would accuse him of being stupid, and Bobby would say he was an idiot. In the war they'd been in worse, etc etc snore. "I know it's... odd, but... I think this whole town is sort of odd." Would they freak out if he mentioned the graffiti? It was really bothering him, but he reckoned it would freak Adam out much more, and Sam probably wouldn't think anything of it at all- or worse, he'd go the library and research it and find out if it was true. Dean didn't want to know.

Adam glanced at Sam, silently questioning his brother on who would answer Dean first. "Bobby was always odd." Sam said, as if that answered everything. He didn't really want to be standing there, chatting in the hallway where their dad or Bobby could walk in at any moment and when he had his heavy bag full of books on his back and a boxed filled with clothes in his arms. You wouldn't think clothes were that heavy but Sam was beginning to suspect he'd packed everything he'd ever owned in his wardrobe into this despite the fact that he was certain he'd gone through everything, tried it on at home and then thrown out what he didn't need or what didn't fit any more. It would be just like dad to come along, find his clothes ready to go to Good Will and decide to keep them for Adam. Adam had more hand-me-downs then he had his own things. "I think a bit of odd is good. We'll be the odd kids that live with the weird hermit so we should get used to that."

Adam shifted, uncomfortable. Sam and Dean at least had been here before, had met Bobby before. All of this was new to Adam. He wanted to ask if the dead things were normal but there wasn't really a good answer to that question so he just let it lie. "I guess everywhere seems odd till you live there. When we're settled it'll be fine." He said optimistically, ignoring Sam because he really didn't want to be the outsider at his new school. It was going to be hard enough being the new kid, much worse being the kid that a load of freaky rumours were going round about. "At least it's summer. We might get a chance to meet people before term starts, settle in a bit." He pointed out, turning his head so he didn't have to see that Sam was rolling his eyes at him.

Whatever Sam might have said to convince him otherwise, Dean thought Bobby's place was odd. Okay, inside, it wasn't. It was actually kind of big and rambling, or at least, bigger than their home in Lawrance had been. There was enough room for all of them, at least when they weren't fighting. Nowhere on earth was big enough for the Winchesters when they fell out, but Bobby's place hadn't been put to the test like that, at least not yet. He didn't know if it would survive, not even with the weird things stuck on the fences.

He was pretty sure that no one would notice if he went missing for a few hours in the evening. He grabbed his jacket, and the motorbike keys, and headed for the door, shouting that he was heading out. There was a grunt from Bobby (slightly different in pitch than his father's grunts, less concerned) and then the door was shutting behind him. The sun was setting but as he drove into town, the hills shielded him from its glare. But he wore shades anyway- he was at the beach for fuck's sake, you wore shades. And he wasn't all that surprised to find his bike wasn't the only one parked up at the gates to the boardwalk. Nice bikes too, expensive bikes. More expensive than his, anyway. And well looked after. He felt an edge of jealousy, but let it go, following the crowd of people and the pounding music onto the boardwalk itself, towards the bright lights of fairground rides.

Dean didn't have any real purpose in mind, he supposed he should find a pool-hall so he could get a bit of cash together, but he was distracted by those thoughts as a figure moved through the crowd in front of him. Everyone was moving about, that was true, but the boy that had passed him had caught his eye, although Dean didn't know why, hadn't got long enough of a look at him to know anything apart from his heart was beating harder in response, much harder than he could remember it having done before. He followed, as best he could, moving through the mass of people, and there, there he was.

He wasn't alone, and that made Dean's spirits plummet. He'd wanted to... talk to him, get him a drink maybe, find out who he was but the guy with him was tall, broad and had this undeniably protective air as he turned slightly to talk to the younger man. Who had, Dean could see now, the most piercing blue eyes he'd ever seen. "Whoa." He managed, under his breath, not realising that now he was well within hearing.

Castiel was aware of someone watching him. He was always aware of when people were looking at him and he would admit his attention had been drawn by the young man who was following him now. He was hardly more than a youth though, painfully young even if Castiel knew he looked young himself - eternally young like the rest of them. He didn't feel young though, not really, not in his bones, which ached like they knew they shouldn't be of use any longer.

He ignored the man's gaze and found Michael instead. It was always better to be with Michael. There were so many people, so many and they all throbbed and he felt like he could hear them, hear the taste of them although how could you describe the sound of someone's taste? Maybe that was why Lucifer had always liked them young. He said it felt like innocence, the blood of the young and if blood could feel like an idea, an emotion then taste could have a sound. Unconsciously Castiel licked his lips and took a step closer to his brother. The man following him had sounded like rebellion. He might taste like it too. Castiel was in no hurry to find out the truth of that.

"Michael," He said, reaching out to touch his brother's arm. "I think we should go home." It was too much. They came out a lot. The night time suited their brothers and sisters. Castiel was used to staying up all night and sleeping all day even if the sunlight didn't bother him the way it bothered the others. He knew Lucifer liked the boardwalk, liked running through the crowds of tourists and locals, the mix of the young and the not-so-young, following their scents, their sounds, trying to pick out the one that called to him strongest. It had been a very long time since either he or Michael had tried to dissuade their family from the hunt. Death seemed so inevitable. Instead they could cling together and make sure neither of them ever succumbed to temptation. "I feel..." He said and he knew he wouldn't have to say more. Michael would know what to do.

The young man was still watching them and Castiel wanted to get away from him, as far away as he could go because he was so cocksure and so very new. He didn't have the same sound as everyone else, he didn't have that salty tang to him that those born by the sea had, his body thrummed with the solidness of earth and wind-whipped dust. He was different and for the first time in a very long time Castiel really felt it in his bones what he was, what he almost was, and how simple it would be to take the last step. His head snapped up as the man said something, Castiel not really catching it but he fixed his gaze on him and tightened his grip on Michael's arm.

It was almost as if this man wanted to offer himself up, like he was a walking sacrifice but Castiel knew that wasn't true. People often went to death willingly but they didn't understand that was what they were going to. They saw beautiful, youthful bodies, they saw sex. They wanted, they offered, they died. Just because the man thought he knew what he wanted it didn't mean he did.

Michael had felt the presence of the stranger behind them too, felt it like an itch between his shoulder blades but no more than that. Sometimes people followed them, felt the hair on the nape of their neck stand as the brothers walked passed, and followed them to find out why, but their interest normally only lasted a few short minutes before they got bored, or one of their other siblings put a stop, permanently, to what they were doing. The lucky ones gave in to the self-preservation instinct and left Michael and his ward alone.

He let Castiel cling to him a little closer, but when he heard that sound, the man's voice, he turned and his eyes narrowed. This was the sort that normally ended up being fished out from under the boardwalk. And Michael couldn't care less about that, but he did not want Castiel to be the cause. Sometimes, less often now than before, but sometimes he knew how intense the pressure was, the temptation to join the rest of the family in eternity but Michael had never felt ready, never felt willing enough to do that and take that step, and he knew Castiel wasn't. Castiel wasn't a killer, of that he was sure.

And neither was he. At least, not unless one of his family was threatened.

"It's alright." He murmured, the words only for Castiel and he turned, to look at the man that had tailed them across the boards. He wasn't short, no, just an inch or so shorter than Michael, and although he wasn't as broad in the shoulders, he was strong. Michael could see that without any of his other senses needing to tell him that. But he could also, overwhelmingly, feel that this man (he certainly wasn't a boy) had something to prove. Some sort of rite of passage that he had still not committed, something that singled him out as incomplete. Frankly, Michael couldn't care less.

"Have you finished upsetting my brother for tonight?" He asked, protective arm moving to Castiel's shoulders.

Dean stopped, surprised that he had got so close to the pair and that he'd been so loud. He'd thought they wouldn't notice him, but he'd been following in sort of a trance, his brain there but his common scene dulled and all he'd wanted was to be closer to the beautiful young man. The beautiful young man who wasn't on a date. Something in him sang out at that, although that was in sharp contrast to the rest of him, everything else inside him telling him to turn around and walk away now.

But a Winchester never ran away from a fight, and that's what he assumed this was. What the sudden cold-sweat on his back was. Nerves before a fight. But he stood his ground, he always did, even if it meant he limped away later, and he straightened himself up, trying to make himself seem as big as the other man. They were about the same age, Dean was sure of it.

"I didn't think I was upsetting him." He said, to the tall one, and then his attention shifted to the smaller, sweeter boy, the one with those unbelievably blue eyes, eyes that looked a little worried. "I'm sorry. I really couldn't help it. Dean Winchester." He said, introducing himself with a grin. One that he hoped was handsome and friendly.

Castiel looked up at his brother, almost wanting to say that he had tried and it wasn't his fault that the man was careless with his life but he knew Michael wouldn't accept that. Castiel wanted to stay human, wanted to have a moral compass and not turn into some creature of the night that fed on human flesh. He could be stronger than one handsome tourist with distinctly interesting blood. The man didn't deserve to be hurt because Castiel was hungry. He bit his own lip hard, tasting the blood there and felt instantly a little better. It wasn't the same as drinking from someone else. It wouldn't hurt him but it was soothing. He wasn't dead and the blood that still pumped in his veins had some spark of life in it. It wasn't really good enough, didn't completely take away the gnawing in his stomach but he was calmer now. He could face the man without wanting to dive at his throat.

"You couldn't help it?" He asked, tilting his head to the side to regard the man who was now grinning at him. He looked so very much alive. It was strange that that was the thing Castiel thought he should find so attractive about him. He was handsome, once he had subdued the sensation that he was looking at an appetising meal and not at a person but it was the fact that he was so alive that Castiel liked. "Castiel Novak. It is a pleasure I am sure." He gestured to Michael, aware that his brother might not be in the best of moods to be polite to anyone, especially a strange man Castiel was enamoured of, even if it had been mostly of him as a meal. "This is my brother, Michael."

It should have ended there. They should have introduced themselves, maybe gone on a few of the rides and then the man should have left. He would have been safe. That was all Castiel really wanted, more than to have the man near him. It would be better for both of them if they were completely apart, possibly separated by a few states. Eventually each of them had met someone they couldn't resist, someone whose blood sung to them, apart from Lucifer who had awoken craving any and all blood and never stopped or had a moment of doubt before casting off his humanity. Castiel was perfectly certain Dean Winchester was that person for him, the one he could fall for, but he had resisted so far. He would resist longer.

Dean liked the boy. Liked the way he talked and the way he chewed at his lip and the way he stood. He was poised, not like some sort of predator, not like that at all, but he was... there was something in him, something waiting, ready, and Dean didn't know what it was but he liked it. He sort of felt the same, like he was ready for something; something to happen that would change everything, forever. Somehow Dean knew it, deep in his bones, in his blood. This place, Santa Carla, it was going to change everything.

And it was going to happen then. He knew it. "Castiel?" He repeated, trying the name on for size, liking the sound of it, the uniqueness of it. He'd never, ever heard that name before. But it was an old name, like Old Testament sort of old. "The pleasure's all mine. And yeah, I couldn't help it. I wanted to meet you. And your brother too, I guess." He said, the tall, broad man clearly not very happy with this turn of events, but he wasn't watching Dean, not really, he had his eyes on Castiel, as if Castiel was the one that would jump Dean and not the other way around.

Castiel frowned. His name had not exactly been normal when his parents had baptised him but they were a large family, religious names for their sons were normal and they were devout people. They had scoured their bible for appropriate names for their sons and Castiel could always be pleased that strange though his name was he wasn't called Lucifer. Castiel wasn't a special angel or anything, just the angel of Tuesday, so there was nothing for the real Castiel to live up to. Not like his brother who had managed to make his name far too fitting. "It is old fashioned. I know." He murmured. He should be used to people's comments now but he never was. "Well, you have met us now." He said bluntly. It would most likely be construed as rudeness and that was for the best. The man should leave.

"Cassie!" The voice behind him made the sluggish blood in his veins run cold and Castiel turned his head, almost begging fate for it to be wrong. His sister was standing there, all dark hair and luscious curves and the sort of smile that made men weak at the knees. She smiled at him and then at Dean. "I see you made a friend, Cassie. Weren't you going to tell us? You know Luci likes to meet all our friends."

Both Michael and Dean turned to look at the new figure as she approached. Dean would have whistled, but for a moment every muscle and sinew in his body shut down, and all he could do was watch as the woman approached. She was no doubt about it, the most attractive woman he'd ever seen. Something about her radiated sensuality. And once Dean's tongue unglued itself from the roof of his mouth, he attempted to answer her, to reply with something witty. Something that would make the woman laugh.

Michael beat him to it. "This is Dean Winchester, Ruby." Michael said. Whatever Castiel's thoughts on the man- his interest was obvious, very obvious- Michael was happy to throw Dean to the wolves in order to keep his brother from biting him. To keep Castiel away, he could sacrifice the cock-sure stranger. Castiel might hate him for it for a while but he'd know it was the right thing, in the end. "I think he and Luci would get on." Michael added. He might be laying it on thick, but he didn't care who got rid of the guy, as long as it wasn't Castiel. It was better he lived, a long way from Castiel, of course, but it that wasn't possible, so be it.

Castiel shuddered, his heart constricted painfully in his chest as Michael talked and he knew that his brother wanted to protect him, was putting him above the strangers life but Castiel didn't want that. He hoped Dean would find it all too strange, would listen to his instincts and leave. Some people did. They lived.

Ruby raised an eyebrow. She distrusted any one that Michael attempted to shove her way. It usually meant that the person in question was just a little too interesting and from the way Castiel was practically vibrating next to him with suppressed hunger she could easily guess what he was trying to do. It was almost funny that he thought she couldn't tell. She glanced at Dean, wondering why Michael thought she was stupid. He was hardly Lucifer's type. Still, that didn't mean they couldn't have a bit of fun with the man and Castiel was always fun to tease.

"You think so?" She stepped into Dean's personal space, running her hand over his arm and she could almost feel the anger rolling off Castiel. He would never say anything. He was too good to ever strike out at a family member but she wondered just how far she could push him. If there was a limit that would make him snap. "Do you ride, Dean? I'll take you to meet the rest of the family."

This was strange. It was downright strange, closer to weird. Dean knew that. Dean knew it utterly and completely. But he didn't move away, forcing his eyes away from this girl, Ruby, was that what tall-and-broad had called her? His eyes went to Castiel, feeling some of his unease pass from his shoulders and he guessed that really, he should be trying to impress this girl, because that would impress Castiel. Castiel was so gorgeous, so... so distant and Ruby just seemed too real and near and in his face. She was stunning though. And he knew he was reacting to that, and the way her hand moved across him seemed to send a wave of goosebumps up his arm, across his chest and down towards the fire in his belly.

"Ride?" He repeated, with a laugh that felt like a swagger, a strut, some sort of posturing. "'Corse I ride." He nodded towards the bikes, the bikes that had been almost as stunning as Ruby, who was almost as stunning as Castiel, who held back too much, as if waiting, as if knowing it wasn't his turn first. Was this how they played? Kind of weird, but he'd heard things about California. "The bikes out there, they yours? Very nice." He said, and yes, maybe he meant the bikes, but maybe he meant Ruby and he wasn't exactly sure.

He was sure though that this was moving fast and really he would have rather, well, Castiel's hand sliding up his sleeve, feeling his heart pound. "Well, if you and Castiel are inviting me... sure, I'd love to ride with you." What had he got to lose? His dad was going to be drunk or asleep by the time he got home anyway, so he might as well stay out all night. He managed to tear his eyes away from Ruby's, although he felt like he was trying to drag his eyes through honey, no, maybe tar, something thick and heavy and sticky. "Would that be alright Castiel?" He asked, wanting to know if one of those bikes belonged to him. He didn't seem the type but if he didn't, he could ride pillion with Dean and Dean was more than a-okay with that. Ruby, he was sure, was the sort of girl with a bike. Something powerful, something that would sing down the asphalt. Something she could wear very little on.

Ruby almost wanted to laugh. He was asking Castiel for permission. Castiel out of all of them, their little brother. He'd never had very much presence before but apparently that was all changing now. Michael must be terrified. She would have enjoyed watching his expression, knowing Michael must be twisting and turning this way and that, wanting to protect the little innocent lamb. It had hurt him every time they had pulled away from him, followed Lucifer but Castiel had held out for over a hundred years. Eventually someone had to tempt him. He should have been pleased he could hold his control over Castiel for that long. No, she was certain if she pushed hard enough Castiel would drink from the man and become like them. Then there would be just Michael left and he loved his family too much to be apart from them forever.

"One of them's mine. One of them is Michael's and our other brothers are around here somewhere, they ride too. Castiel doesn't. He's too young." She said, the irony not lost on her that her little brother would be eternally seventeen. Too young for too many things. Too young for this man. If Castiel couldn't be broken with him then Ruby would have some fun. "I'm certainly inviting you, sugar." She said, throwing one arm around his shoulder and turning both of them to face Castiel and Michael, draped across him now and enjoying the way Castiel stared, stubborn and unhappy, at the places their bodies connected. "I don't know about Cassie."

Castiel hated the teasing and he hated that nickname. He wasn't young. He was old enough. He'd seen so many things, lived his half-life through so many things and yet he was cursed to a body that never changed, never showed any of it. He should be dust by now, long gone in almost all ways and Dean wouldn't have wanted dust but that didn't mean he didn't want to look older, didn't want the chance to grow up. "Yes, it's okay with me." He said quietly, knowing that he was leading Dean to his likely death but Ruby had made it a competition and he knew she would always win, was winning even now. He could tell Dean to go away, that he didn't want him to come with them and if Ruby snapped her fingers the man would still follow them. There was no point in fighting with her.

"I knew you'd ride." Dean muttered to Ruby as she closed the distance between them, moving against him in ways no sane man could resist. Dean knew he was easy. It just took a pretty face, not even a girl's pretty face and he and John had had so many fights about that. But Dean didn't care right now, body humming in barely controlled want, torn between wanting Castiel to break from his shell and the more obtainable delight promised by Ruby. Sure, his body had tingled- in a strange and almost unnerving way at first, but no longer.

So he wrapped his arm around her waist, hand settling on the outward curve of her hip, the pad of his thumb stroking a circle into the fabric there. Castiel's gaze seemed to follow the moment, and Dean had the urge to pull his hand away, as if suddenly shocked by electricity. But he didn't move, not until Castiel's eyes moved away and Michael's voice broke the spell.

"This way. The others will be waiting by now." Michael said, and then his hand went to Castiel's shoulder, mimicking the way Dean was holding Ruby, and for a moment, some really weird thoughts flickered into Dean's head. But that was all made up stuff, he was certain. People in California didn't really do that sort of thing.

He let himself be moved anyway, back toward the gates and then dug into the pocket of his leather jacket, and pulled out the key to his bike, his arm pulling away from Ruby. "So you have a lot of brothers? Where we all heading?" He asked her, wanting to make up some cheesy line about her being the only cute one, but that was obviously balls, Castiel was standing right there. Castiel who was probably too young but was still the one who had stirred Dean, who had attracted him, even if Ruby had taken that over. Even with her wrapped around him, caressing as they walked, her hips bumping against him, Dean had looked Castiel up and down, enjoyed the narrow waist and the shape of his ass and okay, he could get arrested for stuff like that, but not if it stayed in his head.

Or just between them. Dean could live with that.

"I have a lot of brothers." Ruby agreed. "And a sister but you probably won't meet her." Anna hardly ever came out. Avoiding people did mean you couldn't drink their blood but how boring her existence was. Ruby could never understand her sister on that matter but she had Dean right where she wanted him now so Anna was unimportant. "What about you Dean, any more like you at home?" Was someone going to be missing this man or was he all on his own. It was always easier to kill those without close ties but considering that that would leave them without a lot of choice in the diet department it never troubled her very much.

Dean snorted. "More like me? No way. I'm one of a kind." John Winchester would have had a heart attack by now if there was more than one. And he couldn't imagine anyone else in the family doing this, getting picked up by a girl like Ruby while trying to flirt with her brother. Sam just didn't know how to flirt and Adam... Dean didn't think any girl would confuse Adam for a straight boy. Not with the odd way his lips shimmered. No, he was the only one like him in the family, and for that, he was grateful. He climbed onto the bike, revving the engine till it purred. It had been a cheap bike, but Dean knew how to treat an engine, and the sound she made now was almost as beautiful as that made by much, much more expensive machines.

Ruby wasn't blind to the fact that Dean's eyes kept following Castiel and she smiled to herself. A hundred years of keeping himself on the shelf and now her little brother was the one attracting attention. Once she would have been so scandalised by the idea of sex and even more so by the idea that a man could have an interest in her little brother but that time had passed a long time ago now. She hardly batted an eye at the thought of it. Might loosen Castiel up a bit. Maybe this Dean should be allowed to stay around a little longer than she'd previously thought. "Come on." She said, pulling away from Dean as they reached her bike and she swing her leg over it, cradling the metal of the frame between her thighs. "Just follow me, sugar. I'll show you the way."

Castiel was at the point of almost biting through his tongue now. He slid onto Michael's bike behind his brother, wrapped his arms around him and felt him solid and warm and real. Michael wouldn't let him fall, wouldn't let him do something stupid even if Castiel felt like he was about to do something unforgivable. Michael had always protected him in the past and he would do it now. Castiel just wanted it all to stop.

Dean made a little gesture then, inviting her to lead the way. He didn't know exactly where he was being led to, but there was Michael alongside, and Castiel, so wherever it was, they were all heading that way. He let the bike draw a little closer to Michael's, pulling alongside, and he grinned at Castiel, "You can ride with me next time, if you want to go a little faster." He told the boy, before revving again and letting the throttle go, rushing forwards and speeding up ahead towards Ruby, cruising along the long, wide, and empty coast-road. He'd never gone driving with a group before, but this, this was something he could get used to. The freedom and the salt in the air and the very hot girl on the equally sexy bike and maybe Castiel riding with him.

And if there was a slight feeling of unease, a small amount of nervousness in him, then he could just put that down to fear of exactly what would happen when he got home and his dad's interrogation about "what the hell time did he called this". Not that he cared. Not if he was part of a bike gang now.

But Castiel knew there would never be another time, or another ride. He clung a little tighter to Michael, grateful for his brother because it would have been so tempting to slide onto the back of Dean's bike and then when they were driving along, when the man was distracted, just lean up, push himself up with the power Dean didn't know he had and sink his teeth into the man's neck from behind. They'd probably have crashed, ended up in a fiery ball of an explosion. Could fire kill a vampire? Castiel didn't know. They didn't drown, falling off the bridge they'd all take turns to jump off had never hurt them, the blunt force impact of a car had done nothing. Fire might, they'd never experimented with that which Castiel was grateful for.

They drove a little while along the motorway and then Ruby turned off, the other bikes following her, across the wasteland as the side of the road and then down to the beach. She stopped her bike, knowing she couldn't drive it further and slipped off, standing there and waiting for the others to follow. "Don't worry about leaving your bike here. No one ever comes down here and if they did then they wouldn't steal from us."

Castiel shivered. Anyone stupid enough to steal from them would never get the chance to do it again but he preferred not to think about that though. He was trying not to think about anything now. He felt so numb. He knew what he was doing, what he was allowing to happen but he did nothing to stop it. He could see Michael's logic in it and Castiel wanted to keep his humanity so much more than he wanted the man.

Michael stopped the bike, sliding off without a word, stopping a few feet away from the man and Ruby, not even looking at them but keeping his focus on Castiel. He would have much rather gone somewhere- taken Castiel for a walk along the sand, gone for miles and miles and they'd know that by the time they got back, it would all be over. Ruby might try and wait for them, knowing that it would distress Castiel, but she didn't have the patience. None of the others really had any patience- but he and Castiel had the patience of saints. He knew they did. But he didn't dare. He was strong, yes, and it took a lot to hurt him, but Ruby was capable of it. He'd tried to protect Castiel before, tried to take him away but Ruby had not taken kindly to that, and neither had Lucifer. He might be able to withstand it again, but he didn't want to attempt it. Not with Castiel already tempted.

The old caves under the rock cliff were probably the most inspired discovery they had ever made during their living years. It had been a childish discovery on a trip to the beach, everyone darting in and out of the rocks and Ruby thought it might have been Anna who found the gap that led to the caves but it was so long ago now that she didn't remember who had done what. Still, it was well hidden, you had to know it existed to find it and that had always kept them safe. They could bring people here, far away from prying eyes and then the bodies could be built into a bonfire on the beach or thrown out into the sea when they were useless. "Come on, this way." She said, slipping between the rocks and through a crack that hardly seemed wide enough but it widened out after a little way. They'd decorated it over the years, making it quite the little club house. They weren't that good at cleaning up and there were bottles here and there, discarded clothes that had mostly belonged to other people and other things they'd felt like taking. There was even a bed. They'd been very industrious at that time and Michael and Castiel still needed to sleep like normal people although they didn't sleep here, not when they knew what the bed was usually used for.

Ruby and Dean were already in the cave, and Michael knew he had to follow. He sighed, taking Castiel's hand and following the pair, hoping that soon he'd be allowed to take Castiel away, somewhere else. When Lucifer arrived, maybe the others would take Dean outside. He could only hope.

Dean had to admit, he was pretty impressed. There were caves back east, but not like this, nothing decorated, nothing filled with stuff and made, well, liveable in a sort of way that you could spend a few hours in here being cool and rebellious, but anything more than that was pretty weird. It was cool though, and if this was going to be his new hang out, he could get used to it. He'd never actually been one of the cool kids- he'd been the poor kid with the dad who couldn't keep down his job or hold down a relationship. Now he could be one of those cool, aloof guys, in a bike gang, free to go where they wanted when they wanted and do what they wanted.

"The others should be here soon. Want to play a game before they arrive?" Ruby asked him, smiling at Castiel and reaching for discarded beer bottle, sitting down on the rock floor and placing the bottle between them. "Maybe if you're lucky it'll land on Cassie. Otherwise he's just a bit of a frigid bitch."

Dean frowned. It was all well and good not getting on with your family, it was fairly normal. But you never did it in public, you presented a united front. The fact that Ruby could say that, call Castiel that in front of some stranger. "I'm certain that Castiel isn't a bitch." He said, looking back to the youngest. He didn't want Castiel thinking that he was going to be belittled and mocked by Dean; he didn't want Castiel thinking anything of the sort.

Ruby almost laughed at that but she managed to stifle it, an indelicate snort coming out from between her lips instead. Castiel was everyone's bitch. He folded so easily under pressure, he'd never had an original thought in his head that Ruby knew or if he had then he'd never acted on it. He was happy enough being Michael's shadow and that was all he'd been for the last hundred years. Even now, when what he really wanted was the man standing in front of her it was clear that Castiel would never take him. She almost pitied him but he was so very weak. If he wasn't her brother...

A noise drifted down to them, the sound of bikes revving and then falling silent. She looked up, smiling as she saw Lucifer, flanked as always by Zachariah and Raphael. "Gangs all here," She said, grinning at Dean. "My brothers." She spread her hands wide, taking in all of them, Castiel, Michael and the three new comers. "This is Dean Winchester. Castiel picked him up." She knew that wouldn't go unnoticed by Lucifer. Her brother smiled at her, the tips of his teeth already protruding and she could tell he was planning something. Possibly something painful. He did like playing games with their food.

"I'm Lucifer, but everyone calls me Luci." He said, extending a hand to Dean to shake. "I know, what where my parents thinking. Religious freaks. We don't live with them anymore." He said, moving to sit next to Ruby on the ground. "So, Cassie then. He's our baby, Dean. We're a pretty protective family but I think if Cassie is interested in you then we can trust his judgement." Next to him Ruby frowned. That was not what she'd been expecting her brother to say. She'd been expecting Lucifer to issue some sort of challenge or string Dean along before gesturing for them to all fall on him in an orgy of blood for daring to even think he was good enough. Was he bating Michael, trying to draw Castiel out away from him, offering him the man?

Lucifer reached behind him, drawing out a bottle - old, battered, only half full and held it out for Dean. "Have a drink." He said, smiling at him and across the cave floor Castiel's knees buckled under him.

Michael reached out, grabbing at Castiel and trying to steady him, to stop him collapsing all the way to the floor. The boy was pale, paler than usual or that was how it seemed and Michael could feel the presence in the room change; the air was heavier, every breath baited, waiting. This had never happened before, and aside from Crowley's initial rituals, Michael had never seen it done either. He didn't think any of them had. But clearly Crowley had taught his favourite among them all sorts of things.

Michael's hand moved, stroking Castiel's hair gently, trying to calm him, and to some degree, himself. Dean Winchester had seemed cocky, self-assured but Michael had not thought him a stupid looking man. But if he took that bottle, if he drank from it then he was one of them, family, and there was nothing anyone could do to save him. But if he didn't take that bottle now, if he refused Luci, then god only knew what would happen. They'd probably tear him apart there and then. And that was something Michael really did not want to witness.

Dean leant back on the sandy floor of the cave, surveying the beautiful blonde-haired man across from him. He couldn't be much older than Sam but fuck, he was gorgeous. He had that same quick, sly, smart look that Ruby had, he looked more like some sort of fox, something sharp. Not like Castiel, who looked far too open and honest to ever be compared to something like that. What was it about this family? There wasn't even a hint of an ugly gene in any of them.

"He's not said if he's interested in me yet." Dean replied, looking towards Castiel, clinging to his brother and he looked almost scared. Why? Because he thought Dean would turn down the offer? Because this was all some sort of test? What was in the bottle? Not that he cared- he could match his dad drink for drink nowadays and frankly deserved a medal for that. Nothing in that bottle could, or would, faze him.

Lucifer laughed softly. "Oh, he's interested. You wouldn't be here otherwise." He wouldn't be offering this chance to Dean, a chance to join them. Castiel proved annoyingly stubborn in almost all matters and since it was clear his little brother hungered after this man but was refusing to drink then there were other ways to skin a cat as the saying went. Castiel's dependency on Michael had to be broken first and here was this man who had so enticed his little brother, who could make Castiel dependent on him instead. And once the man drank then Castiel would drink too because he always wanted so desperately to please. It was sickening really but Lucifer was being more than kind to Castiel. None of the rest of them had been given this right. They had never made another one of them before.

Dean reached forward, and took the bottle from Lucifer's hand, eyes on Castiel still as he took a swallow- the liquid thick, rich and metallic. It wasn't until it hit the back of his throat that he realised what it was, but it was too late to stop by then. He was a Winchester, and he wasn't going to show surprise. He righted the bottle, having taken another swallow, and passed it back, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and feeling his heart beat faster, chest swell with anticipation. "Prefer beer," He admitted, his attention moving back to the others in front of him. If this was a test, he hoped to hell he'd passed.

The smile that spread across Lucifer's lips was dazzling. Castiel certainly had chosen well. This man would be unstoppable, his hunger, his thirst. He would be crazy in his blood lust and he'd drag Castiel down into that with him because soon he'd be able to tell, the way that they all could tell, the desire Castiel had for him. He wouldn't hold himself back from taking that, Lucifer was sure. He laughed, clapping Dean on the shoulder. He'd known what it was, but he hadn't stopped. He'd not even let his expression change.

"Had to make sure you'd trust us." He said, grinning at Dean. "Congratulations, you're one of us. Is that your bike out there? Nice ride. I think maybe we should hit the road again, what do you think Dean?" Because Dean, who had drunk the blood without so much as a second thought and who was the first outside their family drawn into the fold, was his new best friend. "I'll even let Cassie ride with you, now you're one of us." He said, and for that moment, his teeth were bared.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was a blur. Dean had never, ever been so hung-over in his life, he was certain. He'd fallen into bed fully dressed only an hour, maybe two hours ago when dawn had finally started appearing and the others... fuck, that was all blurred too. What had he done? There had been drinking and laughing and the revving of the bikes and beautiful deep blue eyes that had looked... they'd looked into his soul. Something, something like that. Whatever had happened, it had to have been good, if only because he was paying for it now. There was a pounding in his head and a taste in his mouth like he'd been sucking on an iron bar and his eyes ached as the morning light streamed through the window. He'd not bothered to shut the blinds when he'd come in last night but now he staggered up, making it across the room and tugging them closed.

And then he groaned. He felt like shit and he was certain it wasn't just from beer. What other shit had they been drinking? He didn't know, he didn't remember. But there was pounding feet on the stairs and loud voices and someone calling his name and so he went, downstairs in his jeans and boots and shirt. He might have unpacked his clothes yesterday, but yesterday was a million miles away now.

Dean found his sunglasses on the hall-table, as he went towards Bobby's kitchen, the smell of frying breakfast making his stomach turn. He collapsed, into a chair next to Sam, and leant back heavily. "Bobby, you got any aspirin?" He called, pushing his hair from his face and trying to focus. Coffee and aspirin. And then when everyone else had gone, he was going back to bed. And he was going to stay there until the pounding went away, until the house was quiet and until the damn California sun wasn't so bright.

John wanted to know what Dean thought he was doing, coming in last night at about two in the morning. He hadn't been waiting up, it was just harder to sleep in the new bed then he'd expected. It was hurting his back, the mattress was lumpy and if he didn't think Bobby'd call him a princess about it then he'd tell the old bastard. But it wasn't fair of him to go around telling Bobby that his hospitality wasn't good enough especially when he was letting more than just John stay here with him. Which meant all the more that Dean couldn't go out and stay out as long as he pleased.

"How much did you drink last night?" He asked, glaring at his oldest son. He was wearing sunglasses in the house for Christ's sakes. If he thought he didn't look hung over then he was mistaken. "And where were you? I can't believe you'd just take off like that, Dean." At least Sam and Adam had stayed around to prove he had raised two of his children right. They'd unpacked, been polite and gone to bed at a reasonable time and then they'd come down stairs, had breakfast and hadn't asked for aspirin or worn sunglasses in the house.

Dean groaned, head tipping forwards, his arms curled on the table around the bowl that had been set out for him. Seriously, cereal? Was he five? Whatever, he did not want to deal with his father and answer his questions; he wanted to go back to bed. The only thing that stopped him at that point was Bobby, who moved up behind him and set a coffee cup and a bottle of aspirin down in front of him. It was thick, black, proper coffee, the sort that drowned all sins and washed away any memories of the night before. He reached for it gratefully, glancing up to see Bobby back at the stove.

What a fucking weird little domestic scene this was- Bobby making breakfast and his dad sat there, washed and even sort of groomed, probably because he was going out job hunting and to see principles of whatever schools had spaces for his younger brothers. It was weird. John Winchester never dressed up, for anything. And there was Bobby, cooking. He wasn't wearing an apron, but if he did, it could only make everything a little bit weirder. Bobby was not the stereotypical image of an American mom. Especially considering the beard. Dean shook his head trying to get rid of his thoughts and explain to himself that his dad and Bobby just... no. John had kicked up such a fuss when Dean had brought even slightly effeminate guys home that he'd never, ever be okay with... no.

He managed to stop his brain there, devoting his attention to unfastening the aspirin lid and taking a couple. "I went out with some friends and we had some drinks. I don't remember what or how much." He said, and it was mostly the truth, "And we were in town. You should be happy I'm meeting people and finding my feet." But no, John Winchester was not happy until everyone was as miserable as he was. No, that wasn't true. Dean was just hung-over, and tired. "Met a really nice girl. Ruby. Really nice. Curvy." He said, taking another swallow of his coffee, and then he grinned, "Not as pretty as her brother though." He added, because his father deserved to be wound up.

"Dean," John growled, casting a quick glance at Bobby's back. "Can we please not talk about this?" Because Dean just had to keep shoving that in John's face didn't he. John didn't really care as much as his oldest seemed to think, and he had his suspicions about Adam but that was all those were currently, suspicions. John didn't want to dwell on them, he just wanted Dean to stop parading these guys around, influencing Sam and Adam. Besides, he didn't know what Bobby thought about that sort of thing, they'd never had any reason to talk about it. He didn't want Dean making trouble for them in Bobby's house, especially when they'd only just got there. They couldn't afford to get kicked out because Dean couldn't keep it in his pants around anyone.

"You don't have any friends, Dean. You just got into town." John said, rubbing at his forehead and he could feel a headache coming on, the sort he always got trying to argue with Dean because whatever he said his son would always come out with something completely asinine and they'd descend into a screaming match till one or other of them was walking out the door, getting in the car or on his bike and going for a long drive to make sure they didn't end up in a fist fight. He reached across the table and snatched the bottle from Dean's hand, opening it and downing two of the tablets.

Bobby was listening, it was impossible not to, not in a kitchen that size and he was hearing every word. He'd never had kids, and while sometimes, in his old age, he thought he'd lost out, he realised now that he really hadn't. And he did sort of have kids- he didn't know them well but while the Winchesters were under his roof, he was going to have to look after them. And John. And whatever Dean was into, well, that was up to him. This wasn't the first, or last, generation to be into things their elders disapproved of. Bobby moved back to the young man, a hand, heavy and calloused, resting on Dean's shoulder. "Ruby Novak?" He asked, in tones that were unfamiliar. "You want to stay away from her, Dean. That one's trouble. The whole family. Don't you bring any of them back here." He said, and then that was it. He couldn't do any more, and so moved back to his own seat, hand moving from Dean's shoulder, the same hand patting John on the back.

"You listen to Bobby. He knows the people around here. If he says they're trouble then they're trouble and you should stay away." John said, not in the mood to argue with Dean any more, but comforted somewhat by Bobby's gesture.

Dean had been watching the two men, underneath the shadow of his glasses and he felt the fight fading out of him. He was drained, not just hung over and he wanted to go back to bed. "Right dad." He said, dismissing whatever he'd just been told. He knew it was all rubbish. People had said that Dean was just like his father had been in his young, rebellious days. Dean had never known his grandfather, but he was sure, completely sure, that he and John had had the same sort of conversations that John and Dean had now, that probably generations of Winchester men had had. "I'm going back to bed." He said, getting to his feet, chair legs scraping back on the titled floor and the noise went right through him. "Fuck." He swore, and then turned on his heel, hands going to his head and he left the room.

Bobby shook his head, reaching for toast and pushing a slice in front of John too. "I'll keep an eye on him." He promised, making a mental note to try and nail shut the window in the bedroom Dean was using. Just in case.

Balthazar was carefully positioned, in a dark shadow towards the back of the store- settled there even if he wasn't comfortable. From here he could see everyone who came in and out of the shop, watch them and make sure they didn't cause trouble. There were a lot of trouble makers in Santa Carla, but he and his brother knew how to deal with them, knew what to do even if their adoptive parents had no clue as they dozed behind the till. The afternoon was slow, and it was safer to sleep now while there was still daylight than let your guard down at night. Not completely safe, just safer. But the Milton brothers were awake, and alert, and ready. They were always ready.

Gabriel was up at the front of the store that afternoon, lent against the shutters casually, but in full view of Balthazar, and even though he wasn't looking at his brother, the way his hand hung at his side meant a quick signal would have Balthazar there in a second. They'd devised the system years ago, and although it was simple, it worked. It kept the shop safe, it kept undesirable people out. Of course, they had regulars too, harmless over-grown geeks mostly, the sort that their adopted parents would talk to for hours on end rather than keep an eye on things. But that was okay. Security fell to the brothers. They knew the truth, and they knew that some people couldn't handle the truth. It was better to work alone.

Gabriel shifted, leaning back slightly so that the shutter clanged against its runners, getting Balthazar's attention, and tapped his index finger and forefinger against his thigh, invisible to the street. Two of them. And then a short movement, like a slice. Two of them, no trouble. Strangers coming this way, and Gabriel was watching them, while pretending not to, his other hand curled around a Mars bar. He took a bite, chewing slowly as he watched the pair of strangers come closer. They didn't look like most people around here. Sure, this was California, there was no standardisation but no one wore anything as old, or as worn, as this pair. Tourists, probably, visiting relatives for the summer. They looked alike, and pretty close in age. Brothers, he guessed. The tall one with the floppy hair was pretty hot too, although that wasn't a very professional opinion, just an observation. The other was smaller, looked as if he was still searching for a shape in the world he was meant to fill. Just your normal teenager. Or so he appeared. Never judge a comic by its cover-art.

They were coming into earshot now, the noise of the boardwalk no longer covering up their words and Gabriel turned his head away, keeping his ears honed on the pair. Maybe they'd be interesting. Maybe they should keep surveillance on them anyway, to make sure they were harmless.

Finally getting out of the house was the best thing Sam could have thought of. Dean was in his bedroom, groaning about something or other, probably hung over and it was just a bit weird hanging around with Bobby. The last time Sam had seen him he'd been ten years old and Bobby was just some weird uncle they spent time with every so often when their dad was between girlfriends or jobs. He remembered him as a gruff, sometimes kindly older man but didn't really think more about him than that.

Now it was just a bit creepy how Bobby didn't want to leave the house or not go further than his scrap yard where he seemed to have a part time business fixing up cars that people bought to him. Sam certainly didn't remember all the weird dead things and wind chimes and other hanging odds and ends about the place. He guessed Bobby was just what you'd call an eccentric but that wasn't so fun when you saw it up close. No, getting out the house was a godsend for him and Adam as well. Sam thought if he had to listen to any more of Adam's whining about the move then he was going to go crazy. At least Adam didn't say it where dad could hear but that didn't mean Sam wanted to be his diary for all of Adam's personal thoughts and private fears. He should have said he'd share a room with Dean but Dean was an adult and Sam and Adam were still young enough to fall under the banner of kids so they got thrown together.

"Come on." He said, reaching to put a hand on his little brother's back and steer him towards the store to the left of them. A comic book store. Maybe he'd be able to pick up something cool. You never knew what sort of things these family run, out of the way places would have. He hadn't been into comic books for a couple of years, not really, but a distraction from rattling around that strange old house would be really welcome. "In here. We'll get you some romance comics or something."

Gabriel snorted in disgust, falling into step behind the other boys. Gabriel had hoped that the pair were coming in. Well, he'd not hoped, not really, because that would imply he cared and he was too cool to care, his long dirty-brown hair held back from his eyes with a bandanna, his arms moving to fold over his chest, the empty candy wrapper shoved into his pocket. "If you're looking for Romance comics, you're in the wrong place. We only do serious comics here." He said, behind the pair, one hand going to each of their shoulders, although it was a little tricky with the tall one. Balthazar moved too, getting to his feet and heading towards them, down the opposite aisle of bookshelves, ready to support him in a second if Gabriel seemed to need it.

They weren't being serious about crappy romance comics, Gabriel was pretty sure. They didn't look the type- in fact he would have said the smaller one might have even enjoyed some of the classics. The tall one... well, he might have been an avid collector, but Gabriel doubted it. He looked more like he should be out playing sports - the sort of kids that tried to steal comics for a laugh, not because they wanted to read them. "Maybe I can point you gentlemen in the right direction? Maybe the Tourist Office? Or the Fashion Police?"

"We're not looking for romance comics." Sam said, rolling his eyes. He would have thought it was obvious he was teasing his little brother but apparently everyone in this town was just weird. These two kids were certainly weird. Sam didn't think they were any older than him, in fact he thought they were probably the same age as him but they were dressed up as rejects from Rambo. One of them was even wearing a bandanna. Adam had wondered off to go and have a look at some Spiderman comics in the corner which was probably better because Sam wasn't as good at the big brother stuff as Dean was. He didn't adjust well to being the middle kid rather than the youngest. He knew he'd never been the youngest since Adam was born but when he hadn't been living with them that fact was pretty easy to ignore and it had just been him and Dean, thick as thieves until Dean discovered sex and rock and roll and Adam came to live with them.

"I'm fine, thanks. I don't need the tourist office. I've just moved here. Sam Winchester, and that's my brother Adam pawing through your Spidermen." He gestured vaguely across to his brother, not really caring what Adam did as long as he didn't break anything and they didn't have to pay for it. "And if I was dressed up like a toy soldier I wouldn't be handing out fashion advice to anyone." Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew his clothes didn't look that great, but he looked better than these two. They were mostly Dean's hand-me-downs but at least it was better than Adam who had hand-me-downs from both his older brothers. And he could do with a haircut, his dad kept telling him but when did they have the money to throw around on stuff like that and Sam liked his hair long. He'd let Adam take a pair of clippers to his hair once, just to get it a bit shorter around the edges and that had turned out so badly that in the end his dad had just decided Sam could grow his hair out. "Is this the way you guys do business? Insult your customers till they buy something? You can't sell very much."

"We're the best place in town," Balthazar chirped in then, moving to stand next to his brother. "Our customers know what they want and they know we'll have it." There wasn't really any other comic book stores in the city. One or two other small ones, but they were the other side of town, and they didn't get so much traffic. The Milton place did, with the boardwalk so close. Comic geeks might not drift naturally to the boardwalk, but this place was open longest, into the night even, and it did enough business to stay open. At least, they had so far. Last year it had been a frozen yoghurt place. Until the owner went missing.

"Sam and Adam," Gabriel said, taking over from his brother, "I'm Gabriel and this is Balthazar. What we wear might look silly to you, but this outfit has saved my life countless times." He glanced at Balthazar, who shook his head, and Gabriel shrugged. They didn't trust the Winchesters, not yet. Best not to go into details.

"So, what are you looking for? If your brother is a fan of Stan Lee, maybe I can interest you in something similar." He gestured Sam away from the main aisles, towards the darker area towards the back of the store. "The thing with Peter Parker, he never comes up against anything... paranormal." Gabriel told Sam, "But maybe New York doesn't have that many undead. But here, here we have plenty." He said, and then reached into the pocket of his jeans, taking out a carefully folded comic, the colours gory.

"That, Sam Winchester, is the best guide to Santa Carla you can get. Read it, learn it, and sleep with it. Keep it close, all the time. Give it to your brother. You won't last long in this town otherwise." Gabriel told him, serious as he pushed the comic into the other boy's larger hands, keeping the urge to think anything filthy at bay. "Treat it like your bible."

Sam couldn't have stopped the expression from appearing if he'd tried. He glanced over his shoulder at Adam again, not even sure Adam liked comics but pretty certain that his brother really didn't want to be the centre of attention for the two weirdos running this place. His attention was drawn back to the shorter of the two brothers, Gabriel, as the guy starting prattling on about supernatural creatures. "You think there are Supernatural things in Santa Carla?" Great, so not only was everyone here odd but he was also talking to guys with delusions. Sam took the comic anyway, looking over it, his expression not really changing as he did. It had a snarling vampire on the cover, blood dripping from his teeth. "Right." He muttered, pushing the comic back at Gabriel. "I'm not really into horror comics. Thanks all the same. I'm just not going to pay for something I don't want and it'd probably give Adam nightmares or something." He turned slightly. "Adam, we're going now!" He shouted, just wanting to get out of the shop. The guys were crazy. He'd humoured them, but now it was best to leave.

"I know there are supernatural things here." Gabriel insisted, almost pouting even as the Winchesters retreated. He couldn't let them go though. Not yet. Not like this. He frowned, glancing down at the comic book Sam had shoved back into his chest. They might not want to, but they had to take it, and Gabriel didn't think that Adam looked like the sort of boy that might have nightmares. He wasn't a baby, and even if it did scare him, the comic wasn't half as bad as what was really out there. The boy was heading out, towards his brother who was almost out of the shop, so as Adam passed Gabriel pressed the comic into his hands. "Freebie." He said, and by then Sam was gone, and Adam had no time to question what had been shoved into his grip, he just rammed it into a pocket.

Gabriel stood still, watching the Winchester brothers leave, and then turned his attention back to Balthazar. "I think we're going to have a busy summer."

John had been trying to put fighting with Dean behind him all day. Sometimes he couldn't understand what had happened to Dean. One day he'd had this little boy with freckles across his nose and these big green eyes who'd thought his dad was the best dad in the world and then it seemed within the blink of an eye he'd ended up with this snarling, monosyllabic pain-in-the-ass who obviously thought that nothing John could tell him was worth a thing. Sam, who was smart like that, said they fought so badly because they were so alike. At least Sam hadn't got like that, not yet. He talked back and he was a smart-ass about things, sarcastic too but their fights were less frequent. They were worse, a lot worse but the infrequency of them was a blessing. Sam seemed to understand how hard this was for him, for all of them, and he was trying to make it work. He was a good kid, John had always known that even if he didn't know how to tell Sam how much he appreciated him for just getting his head down and getting on with it.

Adam had tantrums. That was the best word for it. It had been hard on him, John and his mother breaking up and then her death in that car accident. Adam had never wanted to come and live with his father, John knew that and Adam's issues all came from being the youngest, being unwanted. Adam hadn't been planned and John hadn't contested custody for him when he and Kate split up. He'd had Dean and Sam to look after. Kate was a great mother, Adam was lucky to be living with her rather than with a guy who had trouble holding down a job and spent a bit too much of his pay-cheque on liquor. Still, John knew how it must have looked to Adam. His father hadn't made any show of being interested in him past monthly visits and infrequent trips out and then his mother was killed by some fucker who was driving too fast and he ended up stuck with a dad he thought didn't want him and two older brothers who'd never been a part of his life. John blamed himself. It was his fault that he'd never tried to get Sam and Dean involved in Adam's life before but it had been hard, everything had been hard. It was easier keeping them all separate or so he'd thought at the time.

He'd ended up strolling along the boardwalk as the sun set just thinking about his boys, thinking about what he'd done wrong with them and how he could try to put it back together again. He didn't know if there was a way. Money would have made it easier. He could at least offer them security then, a house and an allowance and the things other kids got. He sighed, leaning on the railing to gaze out into the sea. They were lucky to have Bobby even if the kids didn't see it. Otherwise they'd have been living in John's car. He pulled away, unable to look to the sea and the perfect stretch of sand any longer. He'd never taken the boys to the beech when they were little. Maybe living here would make up for that a bit. There were a load of shops lining the boardwalk, including a video rental place. He'd go in there, just for a bit, find something to rent they could all watch, force Bobby to move that TV he kept in his bedroom downstairs now he had other people staying with him.

There was a sign in the window saying they were looking for part-time staff. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing and John needed something to do while he looked for a full time job. He needed to contribute to the house and the boys' upkeep no matter what Bobby said.

Crowley had always had a sixth-sense when it came to people. Even before he had walked the earth as an immortal, he had been able to see things people kept hidden, their secrets and desires. And he'd always used it to his advantage. He turned everything to his advantage, which was how he'd come to be the unofficial king of Santa Carla. In his little guise as owner of a modest little video store, he could fly under the radar. He was unimportant, despite the way he, and his boys and girls, touched and tampered and tainted the city, the lives of everyone there.

Lucifer, his first turned and something of a protégée, thought he was king, that he ruled the roost and Crowley was just happy to let him and his friends play their silly blood games and work out their lusts on the population, but Crowley knew they needed reining in. And for that, he would need help. He did not have the presence that his children responded to. He had to find someone who did.

He was leaning on the counter, letting his other employees bustle around him, watching the back of the man who had been bent over the railing, watching the shoreline. The stranger wasn't considering walking out into the sea, Crowley knew that. He could tell the man wasn't the type, even though he couldn't see his face. He was the solid sort, not from here. He had broader shoulders, muscles that were for work and not for show- so he was from one of the inland states. The man had that sort of aura-a physical one. Crowley liked that.

And here he came. Crowley hadn't intended to hook anything other than a new employee with that sign, but it seemed that he might have found what he was looking for. He saw the way the man seemed to stray closer, and Crowley wiped the smirk from his face as the man stepped inside, and instead he went to the tapes in front of him, arranging the piles of cassettes so they could go back on the shelves. The man no doubt was independent, headstrong, and he didn't want to rely on anyone. He wouldn't want any one assuming he needed, or wanted, help. He could bring himself to the desk, and no doubt demand attention in some gruff, manly way. The sort of voice that could sway people, command them if just focused right. Crowley knew how to make use of that.

John decided going up and asking about the job was probably the first thing he should do after loitering in the doorway for a second. If he was turned down then he didn't want to come back in here after renting a video he'd have to return. He wasn't even sure what he should be renting. What sort of movies did Sammy like? Art house flicks in French or black and white. Dean would be snoring on his shoulder in minutes and Adam wouldn't even sit though the credits. Hell, John would have to be half drunk to enjoy himself. Dean would want something with some action in it. Adam too most likely. He'd rent some old Hitchcock movie. They were usually in black and white and Sam could enjoy the cinematography and bore them all to death afterwards with some deep insight into film-making. Hitchcock normally had enough action if you picked the right one and they were pretty gripping once you got into them. He'd just have to make sure Adam didn't take off because black and white movies were boring. He'd rent Star Wars as well, just in case they really hated his choice.

Reaching the counter he was for a moment taken aback by the look of the guy running the place. He was expecting some bored twenty-something and yeah, asking them for an application form to fill out all of his details would have been embarrassing. Instead, it was a guy pretty much his own age although in the sort of loud, flashy clothes that John would never be caught dead in, probably trying to make himself seem younger. Fashion these days made no sense to him though he couldn't say it ever had. Just give him a clean shirt and a good pair of jeans and he made his way in the world. The guy the other side of the counter looked like he took his tips on dressing from Miami Vice. He would have looked pretty stupid back home, but John guessed here he was the one who looked odd and out of place, not this guy across the counter.

"I saw your advertisement." He said, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder. "The one in the window." He added in case the guy didn't know which sign he was talking about, like he probably hadn't been the one to put it up there in the first place. "That job still open or is the sort of place that only employs teenagers?" Because if it was then he'd pick up a form for Dean and remind his son that he wasn't getting an education any more so he better be getting a job.

Crowley shouldn't have expected anything different- the man was headstrong, forth-right in a way most people might have considered a little bit rash, a little bit rude. This was the sort of man with a temper, Crowley was certain, with an ability to shout and frighten people into place that he, Crowely, really didn't possess. "Just teenagers? No, no, no, we employee everyone here, as long as they have a good work ethic, Mr...?" He paused, leaving the man time to answer as he pushed the stack of videos aside, the counter-top now free from him to lean forward again. Whoever this man was, Crowley knew he was attempting to size him up. And he might be dismissing him too, for what he wore and how he looked. But that was fine, as long as he didn't dismiss him completely.

"Mr Winchester," John said gruffly. "John Winchester." People didn't know him here, they didn't know his name or his past but he was still hesitant telling people who he was. It was if his name was an Omen, following him from place to place and damning him before he even got a chance. If he didn't know better he would have thought he'd been born under a bad star but that was the sort of thing people told themselves to make themselves feel better when they'd fucked up their lives. And he had fucked up his.

"And I'm Crowley, I'm the owner of this little emporium. We are a little short-handed, especially during the day. This isn't my only business, so I'm only here in the evenings, when we get busy," Better be seen as open, trusting, the sort of man that could and would need the other's help. Make it so that the stranger wasn't asking for a job, but taking one Crowley was offering to him. "I need someone that can manage teenagers. Coming in, trying to cause trouble. Need a firm hand to keep them under-control, or even better, out."

"Crowley." John repeated and that was a pretty damn unusual name. It was all the ex-hippies who'd moved out here. Some of them named their kids after the elements, after days of the week and some of them found religion when free love didn't work and used the bible for their original and freaky names. He wondered if the guy only had one name, like Madonna, he looked the sort to be that vain or if this was his surname and his first name was just too bad to even repeat in public without a life time of jokes. He was lucky really that he'd had Mary to suggest sensible names for Sam and Dean and then Kate to name Adam after her father. He didn't want to think about the names he would have come up with on his own.

"You own other places? Yeah, I can see how that would keep you busy. I'm free during the day." He was also free in the evenings but it would be good to be the kind of dad who could pick his boys up from school and help them with their homework. True, he'd taken a look at some of the things Sam was studying and it had done his head in and Adam was heading that way, too clever for his own good. Then maybe he could be the kind of dad who went to PTA meetings and played catch in the backyard. "I've got kids. Three boys. I'd want to be around for them when they get out of school. Uh, well one of them is already out of school but I'd like to be around to make sure he comes home once in a blue moon."

Crowley laughed at that, smiling before he let his expression fall, glancing beyond Mr John Winchester and out of the window and the darkened night sky. Right on time, there they were his little band of miscreant centenarian teenagers, Raphael and the others- clearly Ruby and Lucifer had better things to do. The rest of them were just bored. They weren't as intelligent, as strong as Lucifer or his sister. They were just bored kids, looking to cause trouble. But they were still family, a family he did not need to be too closely associated with in public. "Only one or two other little businesses... if you'll excuse me..." He said, with a twitch of an apologetic smile towards the gruff man. "Some of my usual trouble makers have arrived. They put the customers off, steal. You know the sort."

By the time he'd turned his attention from John, one of them was already flicking through the piles of video cases. "Leave. I've told you before you aren't welcome here. I will call the police." Hardly much of a threat, but in public, Crowley could do nothing to stop the gang, and he too had been victim of their pranks before. In private it was different but right now this could all be used to his advantage.

John turned to look at the teenagers. Yeah, they were the sort you could tell were trouble miles away. Good looking guys in leather, dressed up like counter-culture archetypes and he bristled slightly, wondering if these were any of the kids Bobby had been warning Dean to stay away from. They looked like the type Dean would hang around with, not knowing any better. "Like I said, three boys. I'm pretty good with discipline." He said, turning back to face Crowley. He didn't look like a guy who'd be able to handle himself in a fight. Maybe like the sort of guy who'd call his lawyer as soon as he'd finished getting beat on and screw the bastards in court but not the kind of guy who could swing a punch.

He stepped away from the counter, squaring himself up to his full height and one of these days maybe he was going to realise he was too old to be doing this sort of thing any longer and he was going to take a hit to the jaw and go down but that day wasn't today. "Get out of here." He growled. The teenagers seemed to look at Crowley, which surprised him, before they scampered away like the scared little boys they really were. He turned back to Crowley, giving the guy a smile. "Did I mention I was in the army?"

"No, I don't believe you mentioned it at all John." Crowley smiled, a dazzling sort of smile he reserved for special occasions and the apparent removal of unruly teens. He could appreciate a strong man with more muscle than brain and one who had once been in uniform. He was worn around the edges yes, but considering the others in his social circle, Crowley supposed he had no real reason to complain. John was, in comparison, very well turned out. His clothes were clean, unlike Lucifer's gang, and he didn't have any ridiculous piercings.

"I am sure we can work around your family commitments." Crowley added, after a moment of what might have been consideration. It wasn't, he had already made up his mind. "That is, if you'd like to accept the job? I'd need you on weekdays." Although he had the feeling that it wouldn't be difficult to see John Winchester at other times too, if he asked the right way. John Winchester. What a very nice sounding name indeed. A very interesting name. He was used to religious names, of course. His own, for one, although that was an adopted name, and of course the Novaks. It was their names that had attracted him so in the first place, and when disaster struck their little town, killing off their peers, it was their names, and their beauty, that had saved them. John too was a very, very suitable name. And perhaps it was coincidence, but that was unlikely. Most names were biblical in some way or another. Now, the man's sons, if they too were possessed with suitable names...

But that was not a question he could ask now. It was too personal, but maybe John would volunteer it. "We can discuss a suitable hourly rate and the other perks. Aside of course from the most obvious." The perk, such as it was, was free rentals but Crowley was most interested in discovering where John's mind leapt to. But of course, Crowley was distracted from the vital moment as the large white head of Azrael, his dog, pushed its way between Crowley and the counter, peering with large yellow eyes at the new-comer. It didn't growl, or make any noise at all, but watched him, examining him carefully. "Ah. You will have to forgive him. Azrael likes to make his own assessment of my potential employees."

John cast a glance over the man again. He shouldn't have been surprised, he supposed, this was California after all. Lots of gay guys came out here, didn't they? Just like all those old hippies. That reminded him to ask Bobby what in the world he was doing out here sometime. Didn't seem the sort of place he would have thought his old friend would end up. He paused for a moment, trying to think what he should say to that. He needed this job so his usual bluff and bluster wasn't going to work here. Luckily enough the dog managed to interrupt them. John didn't think he'd ever been so glad for an interruption.

"Yeah? Interesting name." He said. The dog had the creepiest eyes he'd ever seen and the way it just watched him. John didn't think he'd bother putting his hand out and trying to pet it. Probably never get his fingers back if he did. "He's a nice looking dog, sure." He said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and looking at Crowley. "What does he say then? Good enough to join your team or not?" He didn't want to hang around for much longer if the guy was just jerking his chain or getting off on some fantasy of flirting with a stranger not that John was doing any flirting back. He was just being nice, damn it, because he needed something and he knew how to play the game. He just didn't always do it. That was the problem.

Crowley laughed, his hand gently stroking over the top of the animal's head, as if to soothe it, not pet it. Azrael might seem like a loyal pet, a smart pet, but he was a working animal, an animal that served a purpose. He had been with Crowley a good many years, and would remain so. Unless he failed his duties. "I would be a very whimsical man if I let a dog choose my employees for me, wouldn't I?" A whimsical man he certainly was not. Everything was planned, carefully calculated. His children were whimsical; doing anything and everything they wanted, when it suited them. Crowley needed to rein them in, yes, because otherwise Santa Carla would no longer be a suitable home for them all. But Lucifer and his sister were the sort that really did believe they knew best. John Winchester would prove to them it was not the case.

"I'm certain that Azrael will give his blessing. Anyone who keeps that riff-raff from the door is good in his books. So, when can you start?" He wasn't going to beat around the bush. He wanted John Winchester to start tomorrow, or even sooner, but he wouldn't show that. No, he needed to seem much less eager, and he needed to test the waters. He had to find out how the man could best be steered in the right directions.

John hadn't been expecting the job offer to come without him handing in anything detailing his previous working history, or his address or any of the things he'd normally needed to provide before. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing out the door. "Uh, can you give me a couple of days? I need to sort out some things at Sam and Adam's new school. Uh, they're my two youngest." He said. "If you've got any forms to fill in, I'll take it them from you and then drop them back?"

He collected the application form that was pushed across the desk, flashing the man his most charming smile and tried to force away the feeling that he was really no better than Dean. He couldn't tell Dean off for flirting with anyone with a pulse when John was doing the same and for dubious reasons. He wasn't a fan of leading people on or lying but this would just be a part time gig before he found something better. Little lies didn't hurt people, not really. They just greased the wheel. He picked up North by Northwest on his way out, determined they'd all settle down as a family and watch it together. His boys would never know the things he did for them.

The night had closed in, black and inky, thick and clawing. The sort of night when any sensible person was inside, their doors and windows locked tight. Balthazar had just made the final sweep, making sure the house was sealed, entering the bedroom as Gabriel set their emergency packs on the table by the door. If there was a sudden crisis, they were prepared.

"Do you think they'll be out tonight?" Balthazar asked, not needing to confirm who the 'they' were. They both knew. The Milton boys knew far too well.

"A night like tonight? Clear sky, moon out? Fresh blood in town? They're crawling out from ever rock in town." Gabriel answered, and then caught his brother's eye. Balthazar was staring out the window at the dark sky beyond, unchanged from ancient times. The night was made to be respected, to conceal in its shadows all manner of things. Things undiscovered, unimaginable. But the nature of the night wasn't evil. It had been made evil by all the things that possessed it and used it for their own ends.

Unspoken, Gabriel moved towards the window, his fingers coiling in the fabric of the curtains.

He was standing out there again, a stark moment of light in the darkness, looking more like an angel then the monster he really was. Pleasing forms, that was all they were, pleasing forms over black hearts but that didn't mean that Lucifer wasn't beautiful or that he didn't cultivate that beauty. But under the pale, unspoilt skin, Lucifer was the ugliest thing Gabriel had ever been able to imagine. Lucifer was waiting. Watching, he head tilted up, his cold dead eyes meeting Gabriel's, and he smiled as the wind caught his long dark coat, unfurling it behind him.

Gabriel didn't say anything to Balthazar, pulling the curtains closed with all his might before curling up in the bed opposite his brother's. Lucifer's presence had become routine, but it never grew less terrifying. Neither of them said a word, watching, listening. They couldn't come in unless they were invited. And Lucifer would never be invited. The brother's knew that, but it didn't make it easier.

Neither of them slept for several hours, until the darkness of the sky began to fade into dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days had gone by in a blur. Sam had spent most of the time getting to know the town, walking up and down the beach and dragging Adam around behind him because Dean didn't want to get out of bed till about midnight. When he got home that evening he tipped the sand out of his shoes and found a hand written note in his dad's scrawl on the kitchen table.

_Gone to store. Be back Later. Getting ice cream._

_Your brother has a hangover. Don't wake him._

He'd signed it from himself and Bobby which Sam thought was just a bit too domestic but he guessed it was better the two of them being out then an awkward conversation about what he'd done that day, with considerable attention being paid to if he was being a good big brother to Adam. Sam didn't want to talk about things like that. It would come in time, he knew it would but their dad couldn't force them to be close. Sam sighed. Now he couldn't even play his music or anything because Dean was upstairs sleeping off a hangover. He got himself a glass of water and went upstairs.

He'd get focused on his unpacking and dig out some of the books he hadn't read in a while. That was the best plan. Adam was on his way out of the bedroom, towel slung over his shoulder as Sam came up the stairs. "I'm going to have a bath." He said, glancing over his brother and Sam shrugged, not all that interested. He shut the door to their bedroom but he could still here the sound of running water and a couple of minutes later when that was turned off the sound of Adam singing at the top of his lungs, all cracked and out of tune and Sam snorted. It was even worse since Adam seemed to have picked some old Supremes song and apparently didn't have a man if the lyrics were anything to go by.

"Yeah, Adam, you are just the masculine son dad wanted." He muttered, setting his glass of water down on his bedside table and noticed the comic book on Adam's bed, the one that Gabriel guy had tried to give him. He shook his head, grabbing it and flicking through it. They'd been pretty insistent to give this comic away. He had no idea why. Maybe it was their own work or something. He settled down on his bed, flicking through the pages. If it was self-published then there was a good chance the story would be about two dashing, vampire hunting brothers and Sam could do with a good laugh.

In his room Dean groaned. It was the sort of groan that came from the very depths of his soul, made every sinew vibrate with the force of it. He felt... awake though. Awake and... Strange. He ached in new and terrible ways, his body throbbing from tip to toe. It wasn't a hangover, because he knew how it felt to wake up the worse for wear, and this was not it. This was something new, something painful and rooted firmly in his chest. But despite that, despite the pain and the pounding in his head, he forced himself up. And then a wave of a whole other sort of pain hit him.

He was starving. Starving hungry. There were potato chips somewhere, cereal and bread and butter too but he didn't want any of that. It made his stomach twist in an unfamiliar way and then Dean knew what he wanted. He wanted meat. There was meat in the house, fresh meat, red meat. He could smell it, hear it, goddamn it, he could taste it too.

It took a moment, a short moment, for him to orientate himself. The place was dark, and the only noise was the running of the water and the noise of the meat, some high-pitched screech. But it was close, very close. He licked his lips, and then his teeth, feeling the point of them, sharp as they scratched his tongue, and the taste of his own blood made him ache for more, a hissing, hungry sound leaving his mouth as he stepped out into the hall, head lowered, eyes bright, a sickly yellow instead of the usual green as he listened again, the sounds clearer here and with the smirk of a predator, he headed down the corridor, fingers flexing, talons itching to dig into flesh. Oh god, he'd never been this hungry.

Sam didn't know when he'd stopped taking the comic as a joke and started taking it seriously but it was probably when the protagonists had started outlining the ways to tell if someone was a vampire. Firstly there was the inability to stand sunlight for a prolonged time. He'd thought of Dean and his sunglasses, the way he'd stay in bed all day and only gone out at night. Yeah, he could just be getting drunk like dad suspected but it didn't seem right. Before Dean would have been happy to take off for the day, especially as they were right by a beach and that meant girls in bikinis. It had been one of the biggest plus for the move as far as Dean was concerned, Sam knew that.

Now his brother had fallen in with this weird crowd and he wasn't even behaving like himself any more but that happened to be sign number two. A personality change. Number three, bad breath, Dean had always had so Sam wasn't counting that one. Not that he was really counting them but it was getting a bit spooky. There was a noise outside on the landing, a door opening and then footsteps which meant that Dean was up and out of bed. Sam stuffed the comic under his pillow, reaching for his glass of water to take a big sip. He was going to go out into the hallway and talk to his brother and put all this stupid vampire stuff behind them. He had an overactive imagination. He was getting spooked by the house. Dean was normal. Everything was normal.

He opened the door, peering out into the hallway. Trust Adam not to even bother shutting the bathroom door. Light was spilling out along the sounds of splashing and Adam's horrible off-key singing. If Dad or Bobby weren't around then apparently he didn't care if either of his brothers got a glimpse of him naked which Sam guessed seemed appropriate since they'd both had eyefuls of Dean more times than they really wanted to. He lent against the door frame, ready to make some joke to Dean but a glimpse of his brother stopped him in his tracks. Dean didn't even look like himself, his face was all twisted up, and his eyes were like slits and his teeth...

Oh god. His teeth. He was standing there in the hallway, looking at the gap in the bathroom door, looking at Adam like Adam was something he wanted to devour and he didn't look human and Sam just wanted to start screaming or something but it felt like his whole body was rooted to the spot, paralysed with fear.

And then Dean moved forward and suddenly Sam was in control of his body again. He threw himself at his brother, knocking Dean backwards and down the stairs.

Dean only noticed Sam when the other boy invaded his space, coming between Dean and his meal, between him and the meat he needed, craved, wanted with every part of his existence. He could have pushed Sam away, could have kept on going, fed until he was full, until the gnawing ache in him was no more, until it was satisfied and he could go back to bed, to sleep it off. That was what he wanted. He wanted to be satisfied, to never feel that hunger and that pain again. But Sam was in the way and he was ready to tell him to scram, to fuck off, but as he stepped forward to shove the other away, Sam came forward. He wasn't expecting that.

What he expected was for Sam to shrink away, to disappear back into his room and stay there, to cower in a corner and wait for it to be over. But Sam wasn't like that as Dean should have known. Sam did not hide and he didn't run away, but somehow Dean had forgotten it. He'd forgotten it, and so when Sam barrelled into him, Dean wasn't expecting it. It was a strong shove- Sam was tall, and John had always encouraged his kids in rough-housing, always shown them the best way to bring someone down, to end a fight fast if you had to. And Dean had forgotten all of that, he realised, as he felt Sam collide with him, the solid shoulder against his ribs, the rest of Sam knocking the air out of Dean as he was pushed, shoved, away from the open bathroom door, and down the stairs.

Sam heard him hit the bottom of the stairs with a sickening thud and his stomach lurched but he reached behind him, pulling the bathroom door shut. "Adam, lock this damn thing!" He shouted, all the emotion, the fear, flowing out in what seemed like anger, directed at the wrong person. "No one wants to see that." And then he started on his way down the stairs to face Dean and whatever it was his brother had become. He found the light switch and flicked it on, not certain he really wanted to see.

Dean rolled, head, arms, legs and parts of him he didn't know he had slamming into the wooden wall, into the banisters, and then into the floor, his head smacking hard against it and he feel silent, save for a curse. And he didn't try to get up either. The hunger was gone, no, not gone. Numbed, as pain washed over him, through his spine and down his arm and to his hand. There was blood, he could smell the fresh copper tang of it in the air and in the darkness, he lifted his hand up, desperate to lick the blood from his palm.

And then the lights were on, bright and painful, and he blinked hard, looking up at Sam, half-way down the stairs, looking half scared and half pissed and Dean managed to get himself off the floor, eyes not leaving his brother, still cradling his hand. There was some nail on the stairs, something exposed that he'd caught himself on. But he didn't dare look at the blood again, in case the hunger came back. No, he looked at Sam instead. Sam was safe, normal. He was his baby brother, despite the glare and the pounding headache threatening Dean all over again.

Sam wished he had a baseball bat or a cross or something that he could wave in front of him to keep Dean at bay as he descended the stairs. He was aware, vaguely, of the noise of bathwater draining away behind him but his eyes were on Dean. His brother had not been human a moment ago. Sam was still trying to make sense of that but what he did know was that he needed to keep his eyes on Dean, that he couldn't let him out of his sight because if he did then maybe Dean would decide it was Sam this time that he wanted to sink his fangs into. His fangs. His brother had fangs. Those creepy kids in the comic book shop hadn't been making up lies.

They were really telling the truth about vampires in Santa Carla.

The bathroom door slammed behind him and Sam risked a very quick glance back. Adam was there in his bathrobe, a towel in his hair, looking so confused and then worried and he came down the stairs, pushing passed Sam in his effort to get to Dean. "What happened? Sam, he's hurt his hand. Why aren't you helping?" He asked, offering a shoulder for Dean to lean on and Sam felt that paralysing fear again. Any second now he was certain that Dean was going to turn into that unholy creature and sink his fangs into Adam's neck.

"Adam," He said carefully, not moving. "Did you read that comic? Take a look in the mirror, the one over there." He could see it now, even if Adam couldn't.

His younger brother's expression was even more confused than before but Adam turned and looked into that mirror like he'd been told. Sam didn't need to see his expression to know what it looked like. Dean was flickering in and out of focus, one moment his reflection appearing in the mirror and the next moment disappearing. Adam dropped his brother's hand like it was red hot, rushing up the stairs to the relative safety of Sam. "Fuck, he's a vampire. My brother is a vampire. Just wait until dad finds out about this!"

Dean hadn't moved, not as Sam looked down on him from the stairs, frozen. He was still holding one hand in the other, the blood still filling his senses but he couldn't move, not under the weight of Sam's stare. But then the spell was broken, Adam's voice and his hurried footsteps racing down the stairs to Dean's rescue. He was hoping for some distraction from the blood and he got it. Adam smelt like soap, water, shampoo and not at all like a walking snack. In fact, Dean found himself able to breath, to think a little clearer as his brother took hold of his wrist to check the rough, deep cut caused by the nail. "Was that your singing or were you in pain?" He asked, voice rougher, deeper than normal, almost as if it was strained but yet again, Sam interrupted. Why he had to, Dean didn't know. It was okay now. The pounding in his head was back but he wouldn't hurt Adam, he was trying to joke with him for Christ's sakes.

He frown then, at Sam's instructions, at the mention of the mirror, he hadn't any clue what was going on with his body or his mind but as he looked, he saw the same thing. He could see Adam's reflection through his own and fuck, that was probably the creepiest shit he'd ever seen. And it wasn't a prank; he knew that somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to say something, to prove he was still himself, no matter what but Adam had already fled, dashing up the stairs as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did, Dean didn't know. But then there were those words. Those words that made all of Dean's blood run cold and his heart stop. Wait until dad finds out...

They snapped Dean back into action. "Adam, Sam!" He said, chasing after them up the stairs as both ran as fast as they could away from Dean and his desire to make things right. He wanted to tell them it was all okay, that he'd figure this all out, that he'd find out what the fuck was happening to him. Castiel. Cas would know.

"Adam, just get in there and be quiet or something." Sam said, shoving his brother into their shared room and slamming the door shut behind them. He could hear Dean's feet pounding up the stairs after them and he lent back against the door, putting all of his weight into it and fumbled for the lock, fingers closing on it and he turned it sharply but didn't pull away, running his hands through his hair, uncertain what to do next. This wasn't real, it couldn't be real. Dean wasn't turning into a vampire but what had he just seen? There was no denying any of it. Dean had tried to eat Adam. If Sam hadn't been there then he probably would have because Adam was a scrawny little kid and he'd been having a bath and Sam couldn't think of many other times when people were as completely defenceless. He hadn't even heard Dean sneaking up on him over the sound of that squawking that he called singing.

Adam was curled up on his bed now, looking pale and out of it, gazing up at Sam as if expecting Sam to have an answer for what was going on but Sam didn't know anything. He'd always gone to Dean if there was a problem and now Dean was the problem. "Don't worry." He said, trying to smile. "It'll be okay. I'll just..." He caught sight of the comic on the bed where he'd thrown it and Sam darted forward, picking it up and turning it over. There was a little sticker on the back with the address and phone number of the guys who'd told him about the vampires in the first place. If anyone would know what to do then it would probably be them and they wouldn't think Sam was crazy like the police would. "I'll call these guys!" He said, waving the comic at Adam and then added "Why don't you put some clothes on?"

As Adam found pants and underwear Sam found the phone. It was really ancient; one of those old ones with the round dial and his fingers shook as he made the call. Bobby really didn't seem to throw anything away. He didn't even know if he'd dialled the number right but it was picked up on the second ring. "Gabriel? Balthazar?" He asked hopefully. "I...uh...I think my brother is a vampire. What...what do I do?" There was a loud bang on the door and Sam jumped upright, gesturing Adam to get back. He clutched the phone to his ear, wondering if vampires were really as strong as they were in myths. If so that door wasn't going to provide any resistance. "Fuck, tell me what to do!"

At the comic book store Gabriel and Balthazar rushed for the phone on the counter top, each one trying to reach it before the other. They'd been expecting the call, a call, for days. The disappearances were getting more and more regular, and sooner or later someone was going to realise what was going on in their town. Someone had to know, and they were going to come to the brothers and ask for their help. They were going to be needed. And then they could get rid of the nest of vampires once and for all. Gabriel got to it first, picking up the phone, pausing, and then lifting the receiver slowly to his ear. "Gabriel." He said, trying to sound as cool and calm as he could. And then he had to pull the receiver away, just as the frightened tirade washed over him. Even with the phone held an inch away, he could hear the panic, and recognise the voice. "Sam? Sam Winchester?" He asked, and then Balthazar moved in close, his head pressed up against the receiver too.

"Your brother's a blood sucker? We were worried this sort of thing might happen." Balthazar said tone serious as he shook his head. The vampires were bound to go after outsiders, for variety. Besides, they were easier to lead into dark alleys and shadows, too eager to make friends. They were, in essence, easy prey.

"As we see it, you're got two choices. You can stake him now, before it really takes hold. A nice, strong stake. Chair legs work well. Right through the heart. If you miss, you're dead." Gabriel told him, glancing around the shop, making sure they weren't being listened in on. There might be one of them here, spying even now, but it was unlikely. They knew how to protect the place. "Or do it in the day, when he's sleeping. It's easiest that way. I can come over and help." Maybe, afterwards they'd go for pizza. Killing vampires was hungry work. Probably hungry work. They'd never done it, but they'd practised. They knew how it was done.

"Yeah, we could come over." Balthazar chimed in, not seeing the glare his brother gave him. But Balthazar was right. The more of them the better. Sam was tall, strong looking. If his brother was taller, stronger, then they'd need help.

There was another thump at the door then, Dean's fist hitting the door hard, making it rattle in its hinges. He was strong enough to take it down by himself, but it was going to take time, time he didn't have if he wanted to go find Cas. But he wanted to talk to his brothers, to explain, to get them to help him. Sammy could help; Sammy knew how to find things out and Adam... Adam could come with them. He had hidden depths or something and together, as a team, they'd get this worked out, they'd fix it. "Sam! Adam!" He shouted, cursing the fact Bobby had locks on his doors. On the inside though, not on the outside. "Let me in! Who are you calling? For fuck's sake, Sam! It's me! Your brother! Open the damn door!"

"Is it the little weedy one?" Gabriel asked, glancing back to Balthazar, the loud banging noises and the muffled shouting in the background of Sam's house more than a little frightening, making everything more urgent. He reached forward, grabbing a piece of paper from the register, and a pen and began writing a list of what they'd need. Stakes, holy water, garlic, salt. They had to do this properly.

"Stake him? I'm not going to kill my brother, Gabriel." Sam hissed into the phone, for a moment forgetting that Dean was outside, possibly baying for their blood. Sam just couldn't bring himself to even consider doing that and the way Gabriel talked about it - as if it was just a normal every day thing that he was suggesting, it made Sam feel sick. "And no, it's not Adam." He sighed, rolling his eyes and Adam looked up at him, frowning as if he could hear what Gabriel was saying about him but Sam conceded he was more likely frowning at Sam because Sam was talking on the phone instead of dealing with the vampire at their door. "No, you figure something else out. There has to be another way. I need something that will help him, not kill him." Sam said and slammed the phone down. A whole lot of help Gabriel and Balthazar had turned out to be. Sam could figure this out on his own. Dean was family and you didn't go around stabbing family in the back with sharpened stakes.

He swallowed, taking a step towards the door, hand reaching out for the lock when Adam threw himself in front of him, glaring up at Sam. "What do you think you're doing? You're not going to let him in here, are you? Sam, he tried to eat me!" Sam pushed his little brother away with one hand. Adam was right, Dean had done that and a moment ago Sam would have agreed with him but Dean just sounded so tortured and Sam couldn't stand it. It was his brother out there and Dean would die before he ever hurt them, Sam knew that. It hadn't been Dean, not the real Dean, that thing that had gone after Adam. Sam needed to find a cure. "He's my brother. Our brother." He said, unlocking the door to let Dean in. He tried to ignore the betrayed look in Adam's eyes.

Dean had stopped his banging on the door, listening now. He could hear Sam's voice, even if it was muffled. What he was hearing was the problem, snatches of stuff that made his blood feel cold and his heart like a stone in his chest. "What the fuck, Sammy! Who are you talking to?" He said, hammering again, panicked now, although Dean's panic and his anger manifested in the same sort of way; frenzied, loud words, violence and rushing into things without a plan. But he knew that if Sam didn't open the door, that if that conversation continued, he had to get out.

He took a breath, calming himself and then there were footsteps, Sam's footsteps towards the door. "Sam, let me in. Come on." He pleaded, fingers trying the door handle again, because as soon as he was in, he was in, and they couldn't lock him out. They had to listen, they had to help him. They would he knew it. Sam would. There was a moment, a long moment, of hissed conversation, Dean only managing to pick up the last words before the door was opened and he tumbled in, caught Sam in what could only be described as a bear hug, before letting him back down. "There's someone I've got to see. Someone who might... who will know what's going on. What's happening to me. I need to know." He said, looking from Sam to Adam, "I've got to find a way to stop this." He glanced over to Adam again, hardly able to look at him, feeling sick and guilty all at the same time. Cas would help, Cas would know what to do, how to stop it. He had to see him again, before dawn.

"Yes," Sam said, "I'll try and find something here. I've got some horror novels. I know they're fiction but the library won't be open and it's something till I can look up vampire lore." He didn't want to know who Dean was going to see but if he could get some information from a first-hand source then that might speed up their chances of getting a cure for Dean. Although if Dean was going to see a vampire like Sam thought he was he wasn't too certain that his brother would get any help. He gave Dean another quick, hard hug and then pulled away. "Go on. Dad will be back before too long. You need to get out before he comes home."

As the phone went dead, Balthazar raised his eyebrows at his brother, straightening up as he watched Gabriel put the phone back down into its cradle. He did not look happy, but Balthazar didn't feel happy either. And while Gabriel stood there, Balthazar took it on himself to say what they were both thinking, what they knew to be the truth. They couldn't avoid it. "We'll have to go over there in the morning and stake the lot of them."

"Cas! CAS!" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs, getting off the bike and leaving it in the sand as he found his way back to the cave entrance. The night was pitch-black, the stars weak and he had no idea how he found the hole in the cliff wall. But he did, almost without any effort, some sort of instinct guiding him to it and Dean didn't want to spend too much time thinking about what that might mean. Things were changing too quickly, and the ability to find things in the dark was not worth losing his humanity over.

He shouted again, making his way into the cave and looking around the darkness. There was no answer, not from Cas, not from the others and he was beginning to feel sick, the pounding in his head growing stronger again, the smell of blood here all too strong. Because of what they'd done, what he'd done. Drinking from the bottle, not knowing what it was. Desperate to fit in and impress because he wanted Cas to like him. Dean kicked out at something, a frustrated noise leaving from his mouth, body trembling slightly now. He needed Cas' help. And Cas should be here. It was the middle of the night, where else would he, could he be?

Castiel was there although there were so many other places he would rather be. He was waiting. Lucifer had told him to wait and so he had. Dean would realise what he was soon enough, would feel the draw to be back with them and he'd come to find them. If he'd drunk already, Castiel suppressed a shudder, and then he didn't even know what he could do. Dean had been so attractive to him and Castiel didn't think seeing he again would diminish that desire, that hunger and he didn't think he'd be strong enough to resist if Dean offered him the chance to drink, to kill together. There was no Michael here this time to stop him.

He heard his name being called and he stood up. It really hadn't taken Dean very long then, only a couple of days. Castiel didn't remember how long it had taken him. The memories of that time were hazy and he'd woken up and Michael had been shielding him and the scent of blood in the house had been so strong. When he had finally slipped his brother's grasp and gone downstairs it was as if the house had begun to bleed itself. Castiel had never known that there was so much blood in a human body but Lucifer had killed them, every living soul in the household - ripped their throats, torn their limbs off, everything to feed his hunger and Castiel had never, never wanted to become that. He pushed that memory away, not able to stand it and called out "I'm here, Dean."

Dean wheeled around, the sudden movement making him feel slightly sick, but he swallowed that down as he saw Cas through the gloom. Without the sparks of the fire the place seemed so cold, but a heat rushed through Dean when he saw the boy. It was a heat that was unfamiliar, that warmed his bones and made all other thoughts fly from his head. But not for long, that clawing hunger in his gut just as strong as any he might have felt. There was only so much of it he could take, and it was driving him mad, the knowledge that filled him, the thoughts of what he was, and what he had tried to do to Adam, and he would have done it to Sam too. He knew that, in a horrible cold way, a solid rock of certainty in his stomach.

"Cas," he said again, moving towards him, catching the vampire by the elbows. "What's happening to me? What's happening to me?" He said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. There was a way to fix this, there had to be, and there would be. Cas would know it. Maybe it was something they could beat together. They could get back to normal. Because now, Dean knew that Cas wasn't normal. He wasn't human, but he wasn't the same as Lucifer, he seemed different. But Dean couldn't explain it, he couldn't understand it. "What are we?" He asked, fingers uncurling, not wanting to hold Castiel that hard, not wanting to hurt him. But he needed answers. He didn't want to become a monster. He didn't want to hurt his brothers. He had to be there for them. Sammy might almost be grown up but Adam wasn't, not yet. "What can we do? To stop this?"

"I'm sorry." Castiel said. It didn't explain anything, it didn't help anything but what could he say? No one had made Dean come with them, no one had made him drink from the bottle. He had been the one who wouldn't leave and now he was paying the price for it. Castiel didn't have to feel sorry for him, shouldn't have felt sorry for him but he did. He hated that this had happened, that Lucifer had given him this walking death rather than just killed him out right. Everything about him that was good, that would all be twisted out of shape, would become tainted. "You know what's happening to you, Dean." He said softly. "You're changing. You're becoming like them, like me."

"You're a vampire." He said, turning away from Dean, not wanting to look at him because even if Castiel knew it was the truth, knew it all to be real that didn't mean that it didn't sound fantastical. Some days he woke up and thought everything was a nightmare. He hoped everything was just a nightmare but he never woke up normal. "Almost a vampire. When you feed then you will be one. There isn't anything you can do unless you refuse to feed and then you can stay like me and Michael. We aren't living and we aren't dead."

Could Dean, who had been so alive, had attracted Castiel with that spark, really exist between the two planes the way that he and Michael did? They were never happy, never contented or relaxed. At least Lucifer and the rest had their hedonistic pleasure but what did Castiel have apart from a lifetime of watching his own shadow, making certain he did not slip? He was frightened about the choices Dean would make. How could he possibly hold out against the desire for blood when he had ended up in this situation because he'd thought with his cock and not his head?

Dean knew it was even before he asked but he wanted Cas to tell him different, to tell him that he wasn't becoming something monstrous, something that could hurt his family. He didn't want that. He hadn't known what he was getting into; he hadn't known what Lucifer and his family were. He had thought they were like him, young and rebellious and without any cause. He had wanted to impress them, to belong. But he hadn't wanted this. "No," he said, although he could feel the hopelessness begin to flood through him, the realisation. Things were never, ever going to be normal, to be the same. He wasn't going to grow older, he wasn't going to be able to stay with his dad or his brothers, and he was going to have to disappear.

He took a breath. This wasn't Cas' fault. He hadn't tried to stop it, but how could he? There were far more of them, the vampires, than there were of... the ones like them. Dean wasn't a vampire. He knew he wasn't. He wouldn't ever be. Like Cas. Cas wasn't some sort of monster. He could see that, in those bright blue eyes. There wasn't anything there, nothing evil. He reached his hand up, gently touching his knuckles against Cas' cheek. He was still just as beautiful now as when Dean had first seen him on the boardwalk. Maybe... maybe it wouldn't be as bad. Sam was smart and Dean was resourceful. "No, we'll find a way, Cas. We'll work this out." He promised, and he meant it. He'd got himself out of stupid situations and god, this was the worst situation he'd ever been in, but he could get out of it.

He leant in then, careful, gently, fingers stroking over Cas' cheek again, and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. There was a spark there, and Dean could taste a rush of warmth. Maybe it was blood, maybe it was the life in Cas, the life that he still held on to. But he didn't think so. It wasn't the sort of iron-tang of blood, it wasn't a hunger like that he'd felt when he'd been in the house with Adam, stalking prey. This was different.

For a moment Castiel tensed. Sex and sexuality weren't something he had ever experimented with. The world had become more accepting, had changed but Castiel had been slow to change with it and this desire he had for Dean, this want for him, it reminded him too much of the hedonism of his brothers and sisters. They didn't care for the body their meal was in; they simply cared for their blood. When Dean kissed him there were thoughts in his head, worries that he would break down now they were so close and the first time they had met Castiel could have so easily. But he didn't want that now. He didn't want to hurt Dean ever. He just wanted more of what Dean was offering him, more of this passion. He had been dulled for so long, living a half-life and Dean was the first spark of colour in so many years. Castiel wanted to hold on to him, never allow him to leave and never allow him to be corrupted. He just wanted Dean to stay the way he was, as vibrant and desperate and impetuousness as he was.

"Yes," He gasped, breaking the kiss and looking up at Dean. He needed to tell the other man that he wanted him, that no one in all the years he'd been on earth had ever made him want the way that Dean did but he couldn't find the words to say that, thought that it would frighten Dean away because they had only just met. Simply because Castiel could fall for him and fall so fast didn't mean this was anything but lust for Dean. Still, Castiel wasn't going to say no to him, wasn't going to refuse him anything. He grabbed Dean by the shoulders, putting his super-human strength into it and shoved the other up against the cave wall, pressing their mouths together again, his body pressing against Dean's and Castiel just wanted them to melt into one, no space between them.

He hadn't expected Cas to react as keenly as that, all lips and hips and clutching fingers, wanting and hungry, as if that one kiss, meant to be easy and gentle, had opened the flood gates. What had previously only been hints of longing, what had only been a slight spark was now a burning inferno in Cas' blue eyes. Dean would never have imagined it, if he hadn't seen it himself. But he liked it, the sudden stirrings of passion, the want and need in Castiel.

"Dean..." There was the bed here. It was hardly perfect but Castiel didn't want to wait any longer. He had been waiting for a hundred and seventeen years for Dean to arrive in his life. The oldest virgin in the history of mankind and he wasn't willing to wait any longer. "The bed..."

Dean kissed him back, hands moving over the thinner frame, down his sides and to his hips, fingers gripping hard as he felt Cas force him back against the rough, cold stone of the cave wall but he didn't care, catching that mouth again, kissing hard, a noise of pure pleasure pulled from his throat. The press of Cas' body against his was firm, insistent and Dean had no intention of denying anything they both wanted, although the idea of being forced back by someone so much smaller made him feel a little unmanned. But he pushed back, tumbling forward over the uneven floor, tugging the smaller creature with him and beginning to fight his way out of his jacket, leaving it on the floor before they reached the bed, feeling Cas still against it though the kiss, through the jolt in his body where his lips met Cas' jaw.

Castiel made a breathless noise, dragging Dean to him by the front of his t-shirt. He hit the edge of the bed and pulled Dean down, spreading his legs around Dean's hips. Castiel knew they had to get naked for this to really work but right now he didn't care, he was happy grinding up against Dean like this, pressing up desperately. Castiel might have experienced many things but in sex it was all instinct. He didn't know what it was he wanted, just that it was Dean.

"You know what you're doing." He gasped. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. He'd smelled the experience on Dean, knew he was someone who'd appreciated sins of the flesh. "You'll show me." He clutched his hands in the fabric of Dean's shirt again, not tugging this time but ripping it from the other's body, needing to be closer now and why should he care about anything but getting to Dean. There wasn't anything that existed now for him but Dean.

There wasn't an outside world; there wasn't a tomorrow or a time that Dean would need to leave. There was just this moment and Castiel wanted to drown in all of it - Dean's scent, the slow but still steady beat of his heart that might be dying but wasn't there just yet. He wrapped his arms around Dean, holding him tightly and pressing his face against the strong, broad chest, breathing all of him in. This was where he belonged, in Dean's arms. No one could tell him any different.

Dean nodded, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, almost unable to voice the desire in him, nudging Castiel's legs further part, letting those biting nails catch against his shoulders and chest as Cas scrabbled to tear off the shirt. Dean would never have thought there was anything animalistic in Cas, anything like this. But the desire in the young man's voice went right through him, all the intention there and Dean couldn't resist, his own hands exploring the skin of Cas' side, travelling over the hollows between ribs as his mouth moved over Cas' collarbones.

He wanted Cas' clothes off, all of them, now, but he didn't have enough hands to touch and feel and to tear off those clothes too. Not when he could feel Cas' hips under his, could feel him respond as Dean ground closer, faster. His cock was hard, trapped in his jeans and he pressed the palm of his hand over himself, before stroking up Cas' thigh, fabric bunching slightly before he found the fastenings. Cas was right, Dean knew what he was doing, but it didn't stop his fingers fumbling as he got Cas' trousers open. And then his fingers curled around Cas' cock, stroking once, slowly, thumb stroking over the head.

The next stroke over Cas was faster, tighter, and the spark seemed to pulse brighter as Dean tried to get another groan out of those beautiful lips, his own parted as he panted for breath, his free hand planting on the sheets of the bed, his knuckles white.

Castiel shut his eyes, tipping his head back and he spread his legs a little wider, as far as he could with his trousers trapped around his thighs. He strained up into Dean's hand, this far better than any of the times Castiel had touched himself. He was over a hundred years old, it wasn't as if he hadn't tried, as if he hadn't imagined and there had been time to read, to discover and then there had been television and films and Castiel had got a good idea of what he could do to himself, what he'd enjoy but it had always felt dirty touching himself. He'd been taught that when he was young, when he was alive. Masturbation was the response of a deviant mind and Castiel had associated that, associated sex, with their fall from humanity but now with Dean he knew that there couldn't be anything deviant about it.

He felt liberated. Dean made his heartbeat. Castiel could feel it and he liked that almost as much as what Dean was doing to him. For so long resisting temptation had been what Castiel had clung to, he resisted everything, he didn't let himself fall but this wasn't falling. Dean didn't want to hurt him, he didn't want to rip everything from Castiel that Castiel held dear. He just wanted to be close to him. Castiel knew that desire; he wanted Dean so much that it hurt. He moaned, bucking his hips up, aching for something undefined but feeling empty without it. "Please, Dean." He begged, not sure what he was begging for but he was certain that Dean would know.

"Mmhhmmm" Dean managed, the noise a low rumble as Cas shifted under him, ever movement more insistent, more desperate and Dean was reacting the same way, but he still couldn't get close enough to Cas to deal with the ache of his own cock. He lent in, kissing him again, hard, before pulling away, far enough away to tug Castiel's trousers down his hips, and then force down his own. He wanted to be slow, tender, all those important sorts of thing but with Cas' urgent plea he didn't know if he could be.

As if in answer, Castiel raked his hands down Dean's back, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to leave a mark. He wanted everyone to know that Dean was his now as much as he was Dean's. Every time Dean took off his shirt he was going to have Cas's marks on him until they healed and then Castiel would put them back. He wouldn't let any of the others touch him, hurt him.

Dean hissed, the pain and pleasure coursing through him as he felt Castiel throb and tense under him, his own cock responding in kind. "Fuck, Cas," He breathed, the air in the cave hot now, with the faintest salt-tang. He took another deep lungful, trying to slow down his racing pulse. There was no point though. Every time he saw Cas' head tip back, or his red lips part, or those blue eyes fall half-closed, Dean felt his body shiver with desire and want all over again, heart beating hard enough to burst. He stroked, once, twice more, but his other hand was trailing over Cas' thighs now, down to the tight, hot ring of muscle.

He pulled his fingers back, licking them wet and moving back, pressing against that hole again, stroking the tip of his finger against Cas, teasing him. "Feels good?" He managed to ask, trying to shape the words and not descend into curses and praise or groans, his own cock, free from the denim that confined it leaking against his thigh, twitching as he felt Cas respond to those touches.

Castiel stilled on the bed, his own trembling breath the only sound that he heard. Dean made him feel things, things that had been forgotten or had become so diluted that Castiel hardly cared about them anymore. Pain he had stopped feeling. He could walk into the sea until his head was submerged under the water, until the dull burn in his lungs reminded him to breathe and come back unscathed. He could fall, or on one memorable occasion be pushed, from a window and come back with only scratches on him and those had healed over as he looked at them. This was different though. Dean made him feel pain, made him ache inside. He clutched at the man's shoulders, biting his lip because he wanted Dean, he would endure it for Dean but he couldn't remember the last time he had really felt pain and it seemed worse somehow, stronger than the last time.

"Yes." He gasped, pressing up so he could hide his face against Dean's chest, his body shuddering and he tried to force himself to relax, to open to Dean and what Dean wanted to do but he was too tight, to dry for what the other wanted. He shifted, pushing his hips back, trying to force Dean's finger deeper into him, trying to make his body adjust and take him. He wanted this, he wanted Dean inside him, as close as he could get him and he wouldn't let Dean down because his body refused to comply.

As Cas wriggled, Dean held himself back. Cas was so tight, his body burning and as much as Dean wanted to feel that around him, thrust into that and feel Cas come undone around him, he couldn't. He felt Cas shift again, easing the finger out from inside him, just stroking over that tight ring, the slender body reacting under him making him throb and ache all the more.

He leant down again, kissing Cas' mouth and feeling his own cock against Cas' bare skin, soft as velvet and Dean moaned, the fist around Cas' cock uncurling as he gripped both of them, stroking together, his back arching. He hissed out another breath, fingers sliding over them again, thumb smearing over the sensitive head of his own cock, before moving over Cas', hips rocking again, into his hand. It felt too good to stop, far too good for him to pause and try and remember where they were, or what he'd come to do.

There was only Cas below him and the fire between them.

Castiel made a noise of disappointment as Dean pulled away. He had wanted so badly to please Dean, to be what he wanted and Dean had done this before, he'd been with other men before and they'd been able to take him so what was wrong with Castiel? He grabbed Dean's hand, trying to pull it back, wanting Dean to continue because Castiel knew he could do this. He didn't care if it hurt, he wanted Dean to have him and he hissed softly when Dean resisted his attempts to force his hand back between his legs, gripping their cocks together and letting them slide against each other, slicked with pre-come.

He relaxed into Dean, into that hold on him and while he still wanted that closeness Dean had promised a moment before the pleasure that went through him banished all thoughts from his head. He and Dean had forever together. He could wait. He had waited all this time for Dean, hadn't he? Saved himself even though he hadn't known who or what he was saving himself for, just known that he had to wait. There was so much he didn't know, so much Dean had to show him and Castiel wanted to know everything. "Dean." He gasped, arching his hips up, pushing determinedly into Dean's hand, desperately trying for more friction.

"Shhh," Dean breathed, hips bucking forward into his own hand, the other gripping Castiel's pale hip, tracing the line of jutting hip bone, wanting to touch everywhere. Touch everywhere and keep up that friction, feel it pulse through him and Cas. He jerked them again, the movements not gentle anymore, but wanton and frantic and Dean leant down, sucking at Castiel's throat, at his collar.

Castiel bit his lip, stifling a groan, a hand moving to knot in Dean's dark brown hair and hold his head there, to that spot on his neck. He was so close. And so close to losing his own mind over Dean that it frightened him. He'd always been in control and now controlled was the last thing he was. He was adrift in all these new feelings, these sensations. He knew this wouldn't be the only time, could never be the only time because every moment he was with Dean his body would crave his touch just like this, would crave his mouth on his, his mouth on that spot that made everything in him clench. It clenched now, as the hot, wet tip of Dean;s tongue moved over his skin again, sending shivers down Cas' spine, intense and unstoppable. His chest burnt, his thighs trembled and Castiel pushed up once, twice, into Dean's hand and came with a soft cry.

There was that twitch against him, in his hand and a sudden sticky heat between them, over his hand, his cock, over his stomach and over Cas. Dean stroked again, fist tightening over his own cock, and stroking Cas thought the last tremors of his own orgasm. Like this, with his cheeks red, his eyes dark and lust addled Dean wanted to keep him. Not just like this, but close, satisfied. He wanted to drink in the sight of him like this, to commit it to memory. Castiel completely undone.

He managed another breath, body tensing as his own cock throbbed into his hand, stroking fast and hard more before he was coming too, over the both of them, gasping for breath and collapsing forward, managing to roll to one side and not knock the air from Cas' own lungs, wearing a very wicked, very satisfied smile on his face as his clean hand relaxed from Cas' hip and stroked up over the young man's chest, feeling the goose-bumps on his skin. "Next time," Dean promised, voice low, leaning in to kiss at Cas' mouth, "Next time, we'll be better prepared."

"Next time." Castiel agreed, his voice sounding wrecked and he couldn't believe that sound was coming from him. The world coming back to him slowly, the sound of the waves outside, the smell of the salt tang of the ocean and the memory of where they were, what would happen. Dean was changing. He was becoming like one of them. Castiel curled on to his side, nuzzling up against Dean, pressing his face into the man's shoulder and sighing softly. He needed to protect Dean. He had let him down that first time they met, allowed his own selfish need for preservation to override what he should have done and that had put Dean in his predicament now. Castiel wouldn't allow him to fall any further, wouldn't allow him to take that last step or let any of his family push him.

"Rest." He murmured, reaching to draw the thin sheet across their nakedness. Soon he'd have to face his family and face up to what he'd done here. He couldn't go back, he knew that. He couldn't side with Michael any longer if that meant putting Dean in danger and he couldn't allow Lucifer and Ruby to run ruff-shod over him any longer. He had to be the strong one because Dean was new to this. He would be tempted but Castiel knew how to resist and he could make certain that Dean did too. He wiggled, moving down just a little lower to press his head to Dean's chest again, comforted to sleep by the sound of Dean's heartbeat.


	4. Chapter 4

He's my brother, Sam had said. But I'm your brother too, Adam thought miserably trudging along in the sand. He didn't know how long he'd been walking but it felt like ages. As soon as Dean had taken off Sam had gathered up a load of books and that comic those weird guys had given him and gone downstairs to start reading up on what he could do for Dean. Adam had known he wouldn't have that much time till his dad and Bobby got back from the store. He'd stuffed some clothes into a bag and slipped down the stairs quietly, carefully not to step on any of the floorboards that squeaked. He didn't want Sam to realise what was going on.

It was easy going out the front door, shutting it softly behind him and walking along the beaten dirt track that led up to Bobby's house. He'd been worried any moment his dad would drive up but his luck had held and he made it to the main road and walked along the edge for a while, considering hitching for a lift. He'd stuck his thumb out but all the cars continued driving so he'd decided just to follow the road. Now Adam felt like he'd been walking for hours which he probably had been and he could hear the rush of the ocean which the road ran past. He'd go down and sit on the beach and when the light started coming up properly maybe someone would stop for him.

He set his pack down and settled into the sand which was colder than he thought it would have been. He'd been expecting it to retain the warmth of the sun like it did in the day but it was cold and Adam couldn't help feeling that was just the icing on the perfect mess of his life.

He'd try and get back to Kansas. He didn't want to stay here with a family that didn't want him, that would choose a vampire over him. He'd never wanted to live with his dad in the first place. Things had always been fine when it was just him and his mum. Adam wanted so badly to go back to those days that his chest ached. His dad was just some guy who turned up one weekend a month and took him to baseball games and tried awkwardly to talk to Adam about school and act as if he honestly cared about Adam's answer. His mum had always put him first, he'd never had to share her with anyone else and he wanted nothing more than for her to be there now, for her to kiss his forehead and find a way to make it better but she wasn't coming back. It had been three years since she'd died and Adam still didn't find it any easier without her.

There was the roar of a bike engine coming closer and Adam sighed, hunching up over himself. Of course Dean would try and find him. He wouldn't understand why Adam didn't want to help, why he thought Dean was a monster. "Fuck off, Dean. I'm not going home." He shouted as the sound of the engine died. Maybe without Sam here now Dean would just kill him. Adam couldn't find the desire to get up and run from his brother. At least if he died he'd be back with his mum.

Michael needed to get out, to breathe freely away from the rest of his siblings. He loved them with all his heart, despite what they'd become. He could remember them before Crowley turned up, when they'd been happy, a family. They had their problems, their issues. Lucifer had always been attention-hungry, rebellious, out to shock, but he had loved his family too, adored them, and Michael had been his protector. Crowley had taken everything that was good in them and destroyed it, and now Michael felt the tables were turned- he could no longer protect Lucifer; in fact, he was the one in need of protection, threatened and brow beaten. He would hold out as long as Castiel did, to protect him, to try and keep him the same innocent child he had been for years but now there was that human and everything was changing. Castiel had disappeared to be by himself, shunning Michael's company, and Michael knew what that meant.

It was the beginning of the end.

He revved the motorbike, feeling it roar into life, eating up the road, the stars above him the only stationary objects as everything else becoming a blur. He could ride forever, far away from everything, and the inevitability of it all. But he wasn't about to give in to it. A spin around the town, some time, and that would set his head right. He slowed, taking in the route that he knew by heart. He'd learnt ever single road in Santa Carla years ago, and although there was occasional change, they all adapted well to that now. They had to. The only thing that never really changed was them. Maybe it was because they were always going to be the same as they were now, twisted things. Or perhaps they just did not want to embrace the change.

Then he frowned, forced from his rather melodramatic and depressing musings by something caught in the glare of the bike's headlamps. There was a huddled thing- a human- at the side of the road, in the cold sand, probably wet too with the salt-spray of the sea. He could smell the boy's blood; feel his heart-beat even through the vibrations of the bike and Michael let himself slow down. The boy wasn't dead, or physically hurt, as far as Michael could tell. But he was young. He stopped the bike, the darkness around them closing in and he wondered if the shouting, raving boy could even see the raised eyebrow. He wasn't an ugly creature, despite his harsh words and his hateful expression. Those things were fleeting, and they were all guilty of choosing their words badly. But then... then... "Dean?" He repeated, his lips forming an unhappy line. There was only one Dean that he knew of in Santa Carla, and that was the unfortunate soul that had trailed them at the board-walk, that Castiel had taken a fancy to. It would have been better for all of them if he had just taken Dean aside somewhere and broken his neck.

"My name is Michael. Not Dean." He said, both feet on the ground now, looking over the boy. "I'm certainly not about to be forcing you to go back home, not when you're so keen not to go. But these roads aren't the sort you want to wander at night."

"Oh fuck." Adam sprang up, rubbing at his eyes. He hadn't been crying. It was just the wind whipping the sand up into his face. It had got in his eyes. He sniffed, taking a moment to compose himself, blinking swiftly. "I...sorry. Dean's my brother, I thought he'd...yeah, can't be the only guy around here with a bike but..." He trailed off, shrugging. He didn't need to tell the stranger anything. He reached down, grabbing his pack and swung it over his shoulder. "Michael, huh? Nice, I'm Adam. I'm fine really, I'm better off out here than at home right now. I'm not planning to stay here long. Just waiting for someone to stop and give me a lift."

He glanced over the bike. It was a better model then the one Dean had. Dean didn't really like giving Adam or Sam lifts on his bike unless he really had to because he was saving that spot for someone special he was hoping to impress. Sam didn't like putting his life in danger by getting on the back of Dean's bike but Adam had always enjoyed it. He liked the freedom of it, the wind whistling through his hair, the knowledge that he was risking something every time he climbed up on it.

"Where are you going anyway, Michael?" He asked, focusing back on the man. If he could get a lift with him then he'd be able to put even more distance between himself and Bobby Singer's house and his fucked up vampire family. "I want to go to Kansas but you can drop me off somewhere before, I don't care. I just need to go."

Michael was pretty handsome too from what Adam could see of him, the moonlight the only light he had to see by. Adam didn't mind the idea of riding with him, pressed up tight with no space between the two of them. It would be a good distraction from what he was leaving behind.

Michael frowned. Had Adam not been listening? This was not a safe place, especially not at night when his siblings tore up and down the asphalt without a care in the world. But it wasn't just the undead that would threaten the boy. He was young, very young, and naive along with it if Michael was any judge. Adam might think he was an adult, but he was not, and he had no understanding of the dangers he was putting himself in. Michael could have sighed. Castiel had been like that once, before he understood the world. Perhaps Adam needed to avoid his family for a little while, that was understandable. But he would soon change his mind.

"I won't drive you to Kansas." He said, leaning back as he looked over the young man again. He was hardly more than a boy, but he recognised that cock-sure attitude, even if it wasn't quite the same. Dean Winchester and Adam Winchester certainly shared some traits they probably didn't even realise. "I'm not prepared to let you sit out here all night either. There are very few kind people likely to drive down here in the middle of the night." And anyone who did offer Adam a lift would no doubt want something in return. He wasn't prepared to let Adam stay out there a second longer but the boy wouldn't come with him if Michael said he was going to drive him home. And the second Michael left he had no doubts that Lucifer, or Ruby, or one of the others would appear. And that would be his fault.

He didn't like the idea of it. The seat behind him belonged to Castiel, always had since he'd agreed to ride with the rest of the family. No one else had ever sat there. But needs must. He wouldn't leave the boy, and Castiel would agree that Michael was being over-emotional about it. He nodded to Adam, gesturing him over. "I'm going back into town to get something to eat." He said, "I know the best burger place in town. I'd like you to come with me." And maybe they'd talk about why Adam was leaving. His family had hardly unpacked, as far as Dean had implied. Homesickness was one thing, but putting yourself in danger because of it was quite another.

Adam didn't want to admit his stomach grumbled at the idea of food but he'd left home before his dad and Bobby got back from the market and Sam's idea of cooking was to tell Adam to pour himself a bowl of cereal or learn to cook. He hadn't thought about making himself some sandwiches or something for the journey. He hadn't even got any money on him. Adam had just wanted to get out of there as fast as he could but now he was realising how hungry he was. "Are you paying?" He asked, playing with the frayed strap of his rucksack, not completely sold on the idea of going off with this strange guy. True, he seemed worried about Adam's safety and wanted to get him dinner but that might just be before he took out his knife and wore Adam's skin like a coat or something. If they really were going into town then there wasn't much the guy could do to him in public and at least Adam might get a decent meal before hitting the road again. And he'd get the chance to ride on that sweet bike.

"I'm paying," Michael confirmed. And that was true, to some degree. The little diner he and his family frequented had long along realised that Lucifer and his friends were not about to pay for their meals, and while Michael always had the intention to pay, the owner always refused to take their money, probably out of fear that the teenagers would burn his business to the ground. Michael had resorted to leaving money on the table. "Have we got a deal?" Michael asked, straddling his bick now and kicking it into life, the purr it made like some sort of siren song into the darkness. This was it, the sound implied, make your choice now.

"Deal," Adam agreed hurriedly, grinning before he climbed on to the bike behind Michael, sliding forward to press himself up against the man's back, feeling the broadness of his shoulders, the muscles under his hands as he gripped him tight and Adam really wanted to believe that sometimes nice guys on motorcycles drove out of the darkness of the night to do good deeds. He needed this right now; he needed someone to show him some kindness, to show him that they cared about him and only him. He pressed his nose into the back of Michael's leather jacket, inhaling the scent of it and the scent of Michael which was oddly comforting. "Just don't get me killed, okay?" He joked, his voice muffled as he took another deep breath of Michael.

Michael waited, letting Adam slip into the rear saddle, feeling the boy get used to it, to get comfortable and then he let the bike leap forward, sure Adam was holding tight. He was fairly sure that wasn't the only thing the boy was doing. But he was Castiel's age, or near enough, and Castiel certainly never had those sorts of designs on anyone. Adam wouldn't either; he was simply trying to get a safe hold. And that was what Michael forced himself to bear in mind, keeping his attention on the road as they headed back towards the lights of Santa Carla, the giant wheel on the board-walk better than any light-house beacon. But he didn't head towards the beach, taking the road towards the other end of town, towards a diner, all in silver, its oval-windows still bright although there were hardly any cars outside.

"So, what's in Kansas?" He asked, as the sound of the engine slowed and then died completely as Michael brought them to a stop, the first chance he had to actual speak, and be heard, by the boy during their ride.

Adam glanced over the front of the dinner, grinning to himself. This whole place really was a tourist trap but he had to admit it was pretty cool, even if he doubted that it did the best burgers in town. It looked like the sort of place he would have wanted to go as a little kid, something his dad might have taken him to on his once a month visits, somewhere that didn't mind if Adam scribbled all over his napkin and he'd have come home filled up with sugar and salt and bouncing off the walls and his mum would have just smiled indulgently because he'd had a good time. Those good times had become so infrequent. He didn't remember the last time they'd gone out to eat together as a family. It was a treat and they couldn't afford it and Adam had always wanted to come home to his mum's smiling face rather than the quiet of the house he shared with the brothers he didn't really know and the dad who didn't care.

"In Kansas?" He turned to look over Michael again and was stuck now that he could see him properly by just how young he looked. He didn't sound young, he sounded like someone who'd seen a lot of things, done a lot of things but he couldn't have been much older than Dean and Adam knew first hand just how immature that sort of age could be. He was handsome too, dark hair and stubble and Adam bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth as he took a long moment just to enjoy looking at him. "There's my mum. Well, her grave." Being the other side of the country, not being able to visit her on his birthday, on the anniversary of her death. It just felt so unfair and it didn't matter that Sam and Dean had had to leave their mother behind too. Sam had only been a few months old when she'd died and Dean was three. They didn't have the memories that Adam did. It had been him and his mum, every day of his life apart from one Saturday every month, from the day he was born until he was thirteen years old. They couldn't even begin to understand what had happened to him. It wasn't the same.

"Come on." He said, jerking his head towards the inviting light of the dinner. He didn't want to stand out here, talking to some stranger about his mum, about everything that was personal and private and that he didn't talk about because when he tried to he could see the pain in his dad's eyes. "I'm hungry." He murmured although he wasn't all that hungry now he came to think about it. Just anything to stop talking.

Michael said nothing, only watching the boy as he spoke, as that wave of pain crossed his face, the unhappiness more than obvious and Michael felt guilty for bringing it up, but it couldn't be helped. It seemed like the sort of pain the boy carried around with him everywhere, let it control him and influence all the things he did and the relationships he had. But Michael was the same. The loss, albeit slow, of his own family had dictated his life these last hundred years. To a degree they were all still with him, but it was nowhere near the same as it had been.

But just because they were haunted by memories of the ghosts of people long gone did not mean they could never smile again or sit down for a few minutes and enjoy casual conversations. And he saw no reason why he couldn't do that now, with Adam. He carefully moved an arm around Adam's shoulders, in a sort of reassuring gesture, and then led them into the diner, releasing the young man once they were inside. They had, over the years, adopted a little corner of the place as their own, a booth towards the back and that was where he settled, fingers tracing over the table and the scars of their names that had been carved into the wood.

The staff never approached them. Michael doubted that they knew what the family were, only that they were bad news. Michael couldn't blame them. "What do you want?" He asked, settling into the worn red fabric, fingers moving towards a menu and passing it over. "I recommend the cheese burger, with fries. And a milkshake. But they have dessert too, if you want it." He offered. He didn't often have dessert himself, but there were certain members of his family that could not resist and he couldn't tell with Adam. Some people couldn't help themselves when confronted with the idea of sweets. And considering the expression Adam had worn outside, Michael couldn't help but feel that feeding him might at least make him feel a little better. It was a strange peace-offering, but Michael was sure that Adam would appreciate it. "We come here all the time, my family." When they had the urge, anyway. They were normally fairly apt at feeding themselves but sometimes they wanted something else. Something a little less raw.

It didn't pass Adam by that everyone was giving them a wide birth as they entered. He glanced up at Michael and while he looked imposing Adam couldn't imagine he was dangerous or at least he didn't want to think that he was. He didn't think dangerous people stopped at the side of the road to worry over teenage runaways. He slipped into the booth and took the menu, eyes flicking over the laminated surface and the pictures of the delicious, artery clogging food. "Cheeseburger, fries and a milkshake sound good." He agreed, setting the menu down and pushing it back across the table. "Chocolate milkshake."

Michael grinned approvingly and called their order out to the staff behind the counter. Two cheeseburgers, two sets of fries, one chocolate milkshake and one coffee. It wasn't what most people would have picked to have with this sort of meal, and he understood that but he liked coffee. He had never really suffered any temptations, any desire to join his siblings in their blood lust but he put that, at least in part, to coffee. It kept him awake, alive, feeling human. It grounded him and he needed that. When the house smelt like blood, when Lucifer's laughing resounded all the way into his soul, a cup of coffee and a few deep breathes prevented the madness catching. He smiled back at Adam as the staff began to clutter around the kitchen, at the coffee pot, at the milk-shake maker, working at what seemed like double-quick time. They had learnt before that the little group that sat in that booth did not like to wait.

"Your family?" Adam prompted. He found it difficult to imagine Michael with a mother and father or siblings. Maybe he just preferred to think of him as some kind of guardian angel, turning up out of the blue when he needed him and making Adam feel safe again which he really hadn't been feeling at all this evening. He didn't want to think too deeply about Michael but now he was being forced to. He supposed it wasn't really fair to let the guy buy him dinner and not expect him to want anything else in return. He smiled softly, more to himself then at Michael. There were things he could want that Adam would give him. He was handsome and Adam was young and he was tired of being the baby, being treated like he was still that little kid who'd cried all through his first night in his dad's house and not someone on the brink of adulthood. He just needed a little push to go over the edge.

"My siblings. There are a handful of us that come here." Michael said, and that was, really, all he wanted to say. His family were the centre of his life, had been for over a century, but he did not want them to be the focus of the conversation. They took up too much of his time, even dear Castiel, and now he was going to have a night off from them where he could pretend that they were normal. "I'm afraid that I spend too much time with them." That much he could admit openly, glancing up as the coffee and milkshake were delivered to their table. He muttered a thank you, but that seemed to send the waitress scurrying away even faster than she might otherwise have done. If only Lucifer and Ruby remembered their manners...

"You mentioned Dean before." Michael said, with a quick quirk of his lips. "I imagine he's the oldest? We older brothers are always causing problems for our siblings." He was mocking himself, of course, trying to make Adam relax. He had been too protective once perhaps, too argumentative and rigid. Now of course he was hardly able to look after his siblings that way. They didn't want him to. And what had he to protect them against.

"It's just me, my two brothers and my dad." Adam said softly. "Oh, and Bobby - I guess he's like an uncle. He's my dad's best friend. I don't think they'd miss me if I wasn't there anymore." He looked up at Michael through his eyelashes. He didn't think that would be true of Michael. You were almost forced to look at him.

Michael frowned, looking to Adam across the table, shaking his head. "I don't think that's true, Adam. I think they'd miss you a great deal." Who wouldn't? Adam was the youngest, and Michael had no doubt that he was the one who felt left out and babied. He felt unimportant in comparison to the rest of them. And that wasn't right. "I know that I'd miss you, if you suddenly disappeared. I'd probably look for you. And I think you know they'd look for you too."

"Yeah, Dean's always causing problems." Adam said with a mirthless little laugh. Dean's previous problems - cautions for fighting, speeding tickets, fights with his dad - paled into insignificance after what had happened now. "And there's Sam but he's okay. He just doesn't know what to do with me. He and Dean were always close." He shrugged. He envied that closeness. He wanted so much to fit in but they were pushing him out and tonight when Sam had picked Dean, even a Dean who might have been coming to rip his throat out, over Adam it had been more than enough to tell him he wouldn't ever fit in with them. He gazed out through the window, watching the road outside and nodded. His dad might be home now, he'd be worried. "They might be looking." He agreed. He'd thought it was Dean on the beach. He'd almost wanted it to be Dean, just to prove that he cared.

Adam knew he should probably be frightened. No one wanted to come near them but he just felt intrigued. Michael wasn't like anyone he'd ever known before. He was nice, caring and Adam didn't feel frightened around him. He couldn't imagine what Michael could have done to make people seem so scared of him. He played with the straw in his milkshake, feeling like a kid again having ordered this when Michael was having coffee. He dragged it closer to himself, leaning over to meet the straw part way, drawing it into his mouth and sucking. The hit of chocolate to the back of his tongue was instantly gratifying. He pulled away and smiled at Michael. "I don't think I'll need any dessert after this." He said. It was just right, thick and intense and Adam thought he'd probably end up full just from drinking this so he fiddled with the straw, stirring it round and round and waited for Michael to start talking to him again. He liked his voice, it was almost hypnotic, gently paced, not too forcefully, it drew you in and Adam liked listening to him.

"How many siblings?" He asked, cocking his head to one side. He knew all too well about spending too much time with family. At his old school he'd been labelled straight away as Sam and Dean's brother. The teachers who had taught Sam had assumed Adam was as smart as his brother, that he'd enjoy extra homework and staying behind to help out and overloaded him when all Adam wanted to do was settle in and keep his head down. The teachers who'd taught Dean just assumed he was trouble and they pushed him and pushed him till finally when Adam snapped they sat back and nodded smugly that they'd always known he was a bad apple. He'd never had time or a chance to show what he could do. He wanted to be away from them, he'd liked his old school and his old friends. He hadn't made any before they'd had to move.

ichael's fingers curling around the body of his cup, bringing it to his mouth and taking a deep, satisfying swallow, letting it warm him, his eyes not leaving Adam. Blood was such a stupid thing to crave when you had coffee and something to distract you. Adam was a perfect distraction. And Michael found himself smiling again, far more so than he'd done for months, as far as he could recall. He tried to straighten his expression, swallowing another mouthful of coffee, and then setting the cup down. It didn't do to get attached. He'd been hurt by the loss of friends before and knew to keep his distance. But sometimes it was incredibly difficult to remain detached from everything. Castiel clearly couldn't and Michael had a horrible feeling that he was going to be replaced now Dean was one of them.

Which, he supposed, linked him to Adam whether he liked it or not. To all of Adam's family. They couldn't ever learn the truth. But he had no idea as yet how to remove Dean from the bosom of his family, how he could be made to disappear while still living in the same town. He wouldn't want to leave them or watch them grow old. Or watch Lucifer pick them off one by one. But Michael would not allow that. He would not allow Lucifer to hurt Adam.

"How many?" He snapped back to the present, to the boy opposite him, to the milkshake in its cold, condensation-peppered glass, to the hot coffee in front of him and the noise of the diner. "I have two sisters, and four brothers." Michael expected a surprised look. So many children were hardly the norm anymore, although they were not a modern family. Their parents had hardly expected so many of their children to live. And Michael doubted any of them would have lived too much longer, if Crowley had not stepped into their lives. "I know, I know, there are a lot of us." He offered a little embarrassed smile, unable to come up with a reasonable explanation why, at least one that would fit this modern era.

"Oh." Adam said, a bit surprised. "And there I thought my dad was pretty bad. I guess your dad got about a bit too then? Sam and Dean, they're my half-brothers." That half of him that wasn't a Winchester, that was a Milligan, seemed to be getting lost now. Adam had been his own person and now he was just a shadow, just that third son that John Winchester hadn't really wanted but had a duty to now there was no one else left to take him. Still, the idea that Michael might come from that same sort of fractured, slightly broken family made Adam feel good. The whole 1950s ideal of a mum who stayed home and a dad who went out to work and two happy, well-adjusted kids was just a myth and there must be so many more people who were like them, just trying to get along in their families, trying to make it work. "I don't know, maybe dad's got other kids too." He said with a shrug before taking a long slurp from his milkshake.

Michael nodded, unable to agree verbally, to tell that lie about his parents. But if that was what Adam needed to think, then so be it. It seemed to be acceptable, and what was what the family needed, to be accepted, not singled out, and commented on. They had to keep everyone out of harm's way, including Adam. Adam would not believe the truth if Michael told him, he wouldn't understand about his brother's condition, it would be too much and the young man already seemed to carry so much weight on those slender shoulders. Michael could not add to it. "Maybe your dad does." He said. He didn't know the boy's father, if he would take responsibility for his children, but he seemed to have done in Adam's case, seemed to have tried to keep them as a family. Even if Adam had wanted to run away.

He sighed gently, looking at Adam and shaking his head. "They'll be looking for you. Your family." A much closer family than Michael's, of that he was certain, but he stopped himself from saying anything more, before adding, "Sometimes it takes a little while for bonds to form. And sometimes... things happen that make you form new bonds with your family." He and Lucifer had always been the closest. They didn't always agree, but they had been close, and then, when Lucifer gave himself over to Crowley, and the others followed suit, Michael and Anna and Castiel were thrown together. It had been strange, uneasy, and sometimes still was. But they had no choice in the matter, they had to stick together.

Adam listened, head bowed, chewing on the straw in his mouth but not really interested in the milkshake any more. There was something there behind what Michael was saying but Adam wasn't about to pry. He wondered if maybe what was happening now, what was happening to Dean, could draw them closer. Sam had been right, he'd let Dean in and Dean hadn't hurt them and Adam had wanted Dean to be looking for him. He sighed, leaning back in the booth and gazing out the window again. Sam thought that Dean could be saved. Adam wasn't so sure but he wasn't going to find out if he went back to Kansas. There was a grave back there but that was all it was. It couldn't hug him, couldn't fuss or worry over him. It wasn't his mum. "My dad's probably pulling his hair out by now." He mumbled softly, pushing his straw around the glass again. It wasn't fair to just up and leave. It was what he'd always blamed his dad for doing and Adam didn't want to make those mistakes, didn't want to hurt people like his dad had hurt him. He looked up, finally meeting Michael's eyes. "Do you think...when we've finished here? You could take me home?" He asked quietly.

Adam didn't seem so sure about heading back to Kansas now, about hitch-hiking his way back to an empty home. That was a good thing at least, because Michael didn't have to worry that one of his siblings had made Adam into a midnight snack on a lonely stretch of tarmac in the middle of an uncaring night. He offered the boy a smile, reaching out to gently brush his fingers across the back of Adam's hand. "I'd be happy to drive you back home, Adam." He said, and then there was food, two plates full of fries and burgers, and Michael's smile widened slightly more as the waitress hurried away again, "But I still get to feed you? I did promise. And I don't think your father would be happy with me if I brought you back starving."

Adam snorted, already having shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. They were hot and fresh and slightly salty and tasted so good. He swallowed the mouthful and shook his head. "No offence but I don't think dad's going to be happy with you, whatever you did to me." Michael might be taking him home but Adam was going to edit out this part where he bought Adam dinner first. It wasn't the sort of thing he thought would go down too well with his dad and he didn't really need Adam turning up with some older biker when he kept having fits over the guys Dean fucked around with. It might give him a heart attack. Not that Michael was like that. He hadn't been anything but a perfect gentleman all evening. He was almost too good to be true but maybe he was just a Good Samaritan.

Adam finished his burger in all of three bites, completely starving and then picked at his fries, not sure he wanted to finish them or his milkshake. "I guess you're not really what he was thinking about when he told me to make friends here. I'm gonna guess he meant guys my own age." He'd had friends his own age and none of them had stayed in touch once he'd move in with his dad and changed school. Friends just drifted in and out of his life. Adam sighed a little, leaving the fries and finishing up the milkshake, feeling a little sick now from all the food and memories. "Can we go? I don't want to worry my dad any more then he already probably is." He said, pushing his plate into the centre of the table, not wanting to touch the rest of it. "Do you know the Singer place? It's a bit outside of town." And odd, it was distinctly odd so there was a high probability that Michael would know it.

"I suppose he has every right to be," Michael admitted, picking at his meal. He wasn't actually hungry, not in the way Adam seemed to be. But that was okay- it was good to see the boy eat, even if he seemed to eat like he hadn't for several days or didn't expect to eat again for a while. That was rather worrying. But Adam seemed happy enough, focusing on his dinner, with the occasional glance up at Michael, and that was when Michael realised he was spending far too much of his time looking at the young man and not doing what he should have been, which was eating. He picked up another couple of fries, chewing on them thoughtfully, trying not to look too much at Adam again. He had been very good, he thought. He hadn't even thought anything unwholesome about the boy in anyway but Adam seemed to think he had. Perhaps it had been his warning out in the road, that only bad people would offer him lifts. Michael hadn't counted himself in that, but Adam probably had, and that made him twist a little uneasily in his seat. He wasn't about to deny that Adam was attractive and no doubt in a couple of years he would have a great deal of attention because of it but Michael knew it could not be from him. Adam would deserve better than that.

But that didn't mean they couldn't be friends, couldn't see each other. And when Adam suggested that was what they were, friends, Michael couldn't resist grinning at him. "Well, you've got plenty of time to make friends your own age. But I guess most of them won't be able to take you home on motorbikes or find you walking back to Kansas." He said, taking another fry and swallowing the rest of his coffee. "Your father may just have to accept it."

He stood then, nodding at Adam's request. "Let's get you home. They way you're talking is beginning to make me think your father will be waiting to greet me with a shot-gun." And that would lead to all sorts of trouble. He left some money on the table, putting his arm around Adam's shoulders again as they went back to the bike, letting Adam settle before kicking it back into life. "I know the Singer place, don't worry." Michael told him, as the boy settled himself against Michael's back. "I'll drop you off at the gates."

Would his dad be waiting with a shot gun? Maybe. Bobby had a gun collection, all licensed and kept under lock and key but his dad could probably pick the lock. John Winchester did have a temper on him. Adam smiled softly, remembering his dad slamming his fist into the wall of the principal's office when that smug bastard said he was going to suspend Adam for fighting. It hadn't even been Adam's fault. He'd been jumped by three other guys, wasn't he supposed to defend himself? It had been a miracle that his dad had punched the dry-wall and not the man. It shouldn't have been a good memory but for Adam it really was. His dad wasn't angry because Adam was embarrassing him or because he'd been called to school. He was angry because he wanted to protect Adam and he was fighting against people who didn't care, who thought they were trouble and had written them off because of it. Adam wrapped his arms a little tighter around Michael, wondering if that was the case with Michael too. Michael wasn't a bad person, not when you got to know him but maybe no one had given him that chance. Adam had.

They couldn't talk over the roar of the bike and Adam didn't want to talk. He just clung to Michael and hoped that this wouldn't be the last time he saw him. Michael was his friend, someone he had found on his own and he didn't want to lose him or share him. It was stupid, maybe, childlike the way he'd decided that he wanted Michael's attention but he did. There was something about him and Adam didn't know what it was. Maybe he was just overwhelmed by him or maybe he was just lonely and would have welcomed anyone. They drew up to the fence that Bobby had erected and Adam felt a shudder run through him. No wonder Michael didn't want to go any closer. He turned his eyes away from it, from the dead birds hanging from it as he slid off the back of the bike. "Thanks." He murmured, pushing his hair back behind his ear. He stood there for a moment, not really ready to leave just yet. "Can we...can I see you again? Maybe we can meet up at the boardwalk? I want to try out the arcade."

Michael offered the boy the smallest of smiles as he watched Adam fidget. He'd fidgeted all the way through his meal and it was rather endearing. The boy clearly had a lot on his mind but that wasn't it, it was the fact that the young man just couldn't stop moving, toying with things. Like the straw of his milkshake, lips cradling it and Michael knew he shouldn't have paid that so much attention. He hadn't in the diner, but now he was, his mind emphasising those moments Adam's tongue had licked a stray drop of milkshake from the corner of his lips. He needed to focus. He needed to focus on the young man, still fidgeting, wanting to see him again. And Michael wanted to.

But the boardwalk was hardly the place. Lucifer would find out, Lucifer always did. Ruby had discovered Dean (although that had been Michael's doing, he would admit). He did not want Adam to be forced to join them, to be made into something evil only because Michael and he had had dinner. But he didn't want to disappoint the young man standing there, silent as the wind blew around them. He wanted to say no, to insist that it was for the best. He knew it would be, somewhere deep in his chest but he couldn't. He couldn't make himself say those words. Especially when he wanted to see Adam again, be his friend.

"Alright." He agreed, words soft, eyes moving past Adam to the boarder of the Singer property, so very well illustrated with that tall fence and those macabre hangings rattling as the wind caught them. "Not in the middle of the night though, next time." He said, smiling as if there was nothing sinister behind the request. "And we'll go to the arcades. Sounds like a great day out." Much better than hiding in the house, avoiding his humanity.

Adam smiled, bright and happy for one moment and then took off, a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach and he felt like he wouldn't be able to stand still again. It was the sort of feeling he'd gotten when he'd kissed Katherine McGee under the bleachers at his old school, a fluttering, overwhelming feeling that made him what to laugh and shout. He turned just slightly to wave at Michael as he ran up the dirt track towards Bobby's house. "Thursday!" He shouted. "I'll meet you outside the comic book shop! Get there early!"

He heard the motorbike start up behind him but he was giddy as he reached the house. The front door was flung open, light spilling out and for a moment it was blinding and then he was being pulled into a hug, strong arms wrapping around him and Sam was cursing. "Where have you been? Was that Dean? Dad's out driving around trying to find you! Adam, what the hell? I went upstairs and you'd gone and..." Adam wrapped his arms around Sam, smiling even as his brother continued to harangue him.

"I just needed to get my head straight." He said softly. "I'm okay now."

Castiel had left Dean at the mouth of the cave. He had kissed him and kissed him and kissed him till he thought he'd never be able to pull away but eventually they'd had to part. Castiel needed to go home. He needed to talk to Michael, to Anna. He didn't think Anna had even been told there was another one of them now but she had made her choice to lock herself away from them all. He couldn't stop his heart from feeling light in his chest as he walked along. The sun was rising but it didn't bother him. It felt like pinpricks on his skin, the tiniest discomfort and Castiel's eyes were opened to a new world now. He wanted to see the sun, wanted to see the brightness of it in full glory but too long spent outside would drain him and then he would be useless to Dean, unable to protect him so he ran the last block, coming to the big house on the corner with its overgrown front garden and dilapidated shutters. His brothers and sisters would be asleep inside. Their immortality and their blood lust had come at a high price.

Castiel let himself in, shutting the door quickly behind him and breathing in the scent of home. It was so dark inside the house, the windows covered with inky black drapes that blocked out even the hint of sunlight. No one ever came to their house - no salesmen, no kids who had lost balls in the yard. Everyone stayed away and Castiel knew why. The house hadn't changed in over a hundred years. They might update themselves, wear new clothes, cut their hair differently but they hadn't changed in over a hundred years either and eventually people learned to be wary of the places that didn't change. Still, at least that meant no snacks were walking up the drive way offering themselves to any hungry vampires as a mid-afternoon meal.

Normally he kept the same hours as his family but he wasn't tired now. He was too awake, too full of life. He went to the library instead, running his fingers over the spines of the books - a collection built over more than a life-time - trying to find something that spoke to him, spoke to the mood he was in. Jubilant, that was the only word for how he felt, he was jubilant and he was in love.

Upstairs on the landing Crowley paused. The air of the house had changed. It was normally still, quiet like a grave, and that was how Crowley preferred it. True, this was not his home. The Novak's owned this house, and he never had been nor ever would be one of them. To keep up appearances he had his own, more modern house on a rather expensive boulevard, near a private little stretch of beach. It helped to move with the times but the Novak's had their home and Michael, as ignorant as he was, refused to leave. Crowley had attempted to stamp out the eldest's influence on his siblings, but on this matter it seemed that he still held sway- apart from when they took themselves off to that ridiculous cave. Still, it kept them out of his way and out of his hair. So he used the house, its library and its rooms as his own, as and when he wanted them.

He hadn't been near the library when the front door of the house clicked shut, but he was quickly there, stood in the doorway, looking at the boy that, so far, seemed unaware of his presence. Castiel was not the best among them, but he was the youngest, and Crowley had to admit that his naivety, despite his years, was endearing. Lucifer and Ruby were his favourites, of course, but Castiel was a favourite in a different way all together.

Now though, now the boy seemed different, smelt different, carried himself differently. And Crowley felt that, even from across the room. The way he thought of the boy changed, transformed into something ugly then, Crowley crossing the room in the blink of an eye, his fingers curling on Castiel's elbow, yanking around, holding him tight and he felt a sudden realisation. That scent was familiar. Newly familiar, in a way that made his blood boil with suppressed anger. He shouldn't have let the boy out of the house. He should have picked his pawns more carefully. John Winchester. Yes, that was it. The scent...

No. No, his pawns hadn't betrayed him. It was a familiar scent, but not, not quite like the man. Not as matured, not as deep. Not him at all, but someone like him. "What have you been up to, little Cassie?" Crowley asked, fingers relaxing slightly, but not letting go. Oh no, he knew exactly what the boy had been doing, and Crowley felt no desire to be forgiving.

Castiel dropped the book he had been holding, stifling his own yelp of fear as he was pulled round. He'd not even heard Crowley come in. He stiffened in the man's arms, turning his head away slightly so he didn't have to meet the man's eye. It wasn't fair the power he had over them. Michael was taller, stronger, Castiel had no doubt and they could have overpowered Crowley if they had put themselves to it, if the Novak children had worked together, divided though they were but they couldn't. He had given them a second life. They were indebted to him. Even so Castiel flinched at the nickname. He hated it so much but he hated it more from Crowley. It was cruel, mocking him and reminded him he was still a child in every one's eyes even with the things he'd seen, the things he'd done.

"I...I was with someone." He said softly. Crowley would already be able to smell it on him, smell sex and Dean. Castiel couldn't hide it from him. He didn't know why it mattered. The others had their fun so why couldn't Castiel? Although it had been so much more than fun. Fun was something fleeting, something unimportant between death and boredom to stop the years from melding together and Dean wasn't like that. Dean was everything now. "You know I was. Crowley, let me go." He tried to pull away but there was strength there in the man even if he didn't look the sort and Castiel knew he wasn't as powerful, whatever he was able to do before.

Crowley wasn't about to let go. Castiel might ask, plead, beg even but Crowley was not about to let the boy go. His nostrils flared, face set in a mask of anger and indignation, catching Castiel by the other arm and giving him a shake, forcing the boy to look at him. Castiel had always been obedient. Slow to join his brothers and sister but Crowley had the patience of a saint when it came to his family. If he didn't then he wouldn't have put up with their bad behaviour for so long.

He took a moment then to calm himself, fingers uncoiling from the boy's arm to instead stroke gently over his pale cheek. The boy stank like human, not like their blood, delicious and hot, but like filth and sweat. "Oh Cassie," he muttered, voice suddenly soft, almost tender. There was more than one way for him to get what he wanted. "How am I meant to look after you, to protect you, when you do things like this? Hmm? Now that human will be sniffing round here, making unreasonable demands..." But that one human could easily be dealt with. "It jeopardises everyone in the family. You know that. And now I'm going to have to send Luci out to find him, or deal with him myself and you know how much I hate that." A lie of course. Crowley restricted his feeding, controlled himself in a way his family seemed unable to comprehend but the excuse for fresh blood was welcome. Especially if he could use the opportunity to punish Castiel for his behaviour.

He paused, hand cupping the boy's cheek, a thumb running over the boy's lower lip. "Tell me his name, Cassie. It will make everything so much easier."

Castiel's eyes widened and he struggled again before falling still. There was no point in fighting against the attempts to hold him and he knew that if he didn't give Crowley what he wanted then he would find out from one of the others. Although it pained Castiel to even think about it Michael would likely sell Dean out in a second if he thought it would stop Castiel from falling, protect him somehow. He closed his eyes, swallowing down his fear. It would be better coming from him. He could lessen it, he could protect Dean. He would find a way to do it. "His name is Dean Winchester." He said in a whisper. "But he's not...he's not a danger to us." He bit his lip, opening his eyes and looking up into Crowley's face, wondering if he should tell him the rest of it.

Crowley didn't know, he thought Dean was still mortal. That meant Lucifer hadn't told him what he'd done, most likely hadn't been allowed to do it in the first place. Castiel didn't want to get his brother into trouble even after everything Lucifer had done, everything he had become. He was still his brother but if it would protect Dean then Castiel would throw his brother to the wolves every time. "He knows what we are and he is not human. He's one of us now." He tipped his chin up a little, trying to find the conviction inside him that his voice lacked. He had never disobeyed anyone outright before. He had refused to feed but no-one could make him. This was different though. Dean was one of them and Castiel had stood by and allowed that. He could have stopped them, could have stepped in but while he hadn't helped he hadn't done anything to prevent it either.

Crowley's eyes, which had taken on a kindly, almost paternal cast, abruptly changed. Gone was the gentle stroking fingers across Castiel's cheek, gone were the soft tone of his words. His eyes were hard, cold, and his grip on Castiel's arm was one of sharp talons. "He what?" Crowley almost spat the words. They were full of venom. "You did what, Castiel? How dare you!" He had been betrayed, betrayed by the one he thought too weak and pitiful to do anything without Michael, without his nurse-maid to hold his hand. That was cruel but fate liked to be cruel.

But then the realisation dawned. Even if Castiel spent half his time reading, Crowley knew there was no way he could have known the ritual and the method involved. And Crowley sincerely doubted what motivation Castiel would have. He did not appreciate the opportunities he had, the sort of existence that stretched out before him if he embraced it. No, there were only two that sprung to mind when he considered it and only one who would seek to spread his wings, as it were, and threaten Crowley's position in such a way.

Lucifer.

His eyes narrowed still further, shaking Castiel again. "Winchester? Did you say Winchester?" He was demanding answers now, refusing to let go. Perhaps Lucifer's stupidity could be put to use. Perhaps it could be turned to their advantage. But he did not savour the idea of having to salvage everything and change his plans because his favourite wanted to test his luck.

"Yes, Dean Winchester." Castiel cried. "Please don't hurt him! He won't hurt us, please!" He twisted in Crowley's arms. There had been punishments over the years, times when one or other of them had got out of line and Crowley had been quick to put them back in their place. The time that Michael had tried to leave, the memory of what had happened then still frightened Castiel and just because it would be hard to kill him, simply because it was harder to hurt him didn't mean that Crowley couldn't find ways. He almost seemed to take pleasure in it and Castiel knew how much he could hurt Dean before he ever came close to killing him. Any punishment Crowley would give Castiel would take willingly but he couldn't let Dean be hurt. "He's one of us now. He's ours. You can't..."

"Be quiet Castiel! You and your siblings are causing me more than your share of problems! You will go to your room, and you will not come out. Not until I tell you." He growled, not willing to let Castiel get away scot free. Castiel had still betrayed him. That he could not easily forgive. And if he wanted to put things right he would have to ensure that Castiel and this Dean Winchester, no doubt John's son, were kept apart. Then, and only then, could he get what he wanted.

"Yes." Castiel whispered. As a punishment went it did not sound so awful but Castiel could stay there for years, never speaking to anyone, not eating, wasting away and not dying. That had been Anna's punishment once, ten years away from them, locked in her room and at the end of it she had been so cold, so distant and Castiel didn't think she had ever recovered. She never left the house now. It wouldn't scar, not where someone would see but it might drive Castiel out of his mind and if he couldn't see Dean then how could he protect him? "Will you tell me you won't hurt him?" He asked, his voice trembling but he couldn't stop himself. It was fool hardy and he had no right to ask anything of Crowley but he couldn't just obey, not without knowing that Dean would be safe. "Please, Crowley. I've never asked you for anything. I've always been good." He was begging now but Castiel couldn't leave without knowing.

"He is not yours, Castiel. You own nothing. You have nothing. You are mine and everything you touch is mine." Crowley hissed at him, letting the boy go, pushing him away, towards the doors. He would have to see John Winchester soon. To get the ball moving. Faster than he'd wanted to, but he had no choice. His foolish, stupid, thoughtless family had forced his hand.

And as much as Crowley wanted to punish Castiel, to make him sob and cry, to make his spirit break and his heart sink, that would have to wait. He had other things that needed to be attended to first. But in order to have John Winchester, he had to keep Dean safe, intact. Between life and death was acceptable, perhaps it would only serve to encourage John and the man's other sons to take that next step.

"You and Dean Winchester seem to have luck on your side. Stay in your room, Castiel. He will not be harmed whilst you behave." And with that, Crowley turned and stormed out, abandoning Castiel in the library. But the boy was not alone for long, the low bestial growl from Azrael encouraging Castiel towards the stairs, a snap of his jaws close against Castiel's heels.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam really didn't know what was going on right now and he hated that feeling. Sam liked things neat and orderly. Logical. Sensible things made him feel calm. Dean was the irrational one; Sam was the one who sorted things out. He was in touch with himself, unlike the rest of this repressed, socially awkward family and even though he hadn't been popular in his previous school he'd got by. As he'd gotten taller, broader, filled out to look more like his older brother the times getting jumped after school by bullies had fallen to practically zero and Sam had always held his own in those fights too even if he thought fighting should be a last resort. Moving here was turning everything on its head. He was reading and re-reading a comic book trying to find an answer to his brother's vampiric curse. None of that was logical but Sam didn't know what else he could do.

Dean hadn't come back yet from meeting his friend and Sam was worried that he wasn't going to come back. What if sunlight killed him? Or was that a myth? Did garlic do anything? He had no idea and Adam wasn't being any help. He was still in bed. Dad had been pretty rough on him when he'd got back in and found Adam sitting at the kitchen table with Sam, looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth even though he'd taken off into the night without a backwards glance. He wouldn't tell Sam anything about where he'd been or the guy on the motorbike who'd bought him back. Sam had to admit he'd checked Adam's neck for bite marks once his little brother had fallen asleep but Adam just seemed to be a normal teenager, not the undead so he'd left him in bed. They didn't need two of them to get nowhere with their research.

There was a knock on the front door. "Bobby!" He yelled and waited a few moments. There was no reply so he guessed that Bobby was out back working on one of the cars. He pushed his chair back, getting up and going to answer the door. "Mr Singer is out back, just take the car round and he'll be able to give you a quote." He said opening the door, the already rehearsed response on his lips. Bobby worked from home so during the daylight hours if anyone called on the house they had to act like they were working too.

"Eat Stake, Blood Sucker!" Balthazar shouted, forcing their way in through the open door, the sharpened lengths of wood raised as Gabriel went after Sam, using the element of surprise as best he could; after all, he wasn't exactly as tall or as broad as the boy who'd opened the door. Gabriel had been hopeful that it would be the little weedy one- Adam- that would let them in and he could take him down in the blink of an eye. He hadn't wanted to be the one to stake Sam but now he had no choice. Balthazar was already doing a sweep of the house, looking for the others, stake held high, ready to strike.

Not that Gabriel could waste any time watching his brother. He had a night-crawler of his own to finish off. And it would have been better if Sammy didn't look so surprised, so human. If he had waxy skin, yellow eyes, maybe some gaping, tooth-filled mouth, then Gabriel would have felt much better about it. But the vampires knew the more human they appeared the harder it would be for heroes to dispatch them. The nail in the coffin was the fact that the vampire was attractive but Gabriel forced that from his mind, trying to pin the vampire down on the wooden floor.

"Stay still!" Gabriel found himself shouting, although heaven only knew why he thought Sam would oblige him. Sam- no, not Sam. Sam was dead. He was just a leech now. Bent on killing and eating everyone. The vampire would be fighting for its life, tooth and talon and whatever mind-tricks it possessed. Gabe knew he only had one chance, one try, and if he failed then it was all down to Balthazar.

Santa Carla would be doomed.

Sam had about a second to realise what was going on before the wind was knocked out of him and Gabriel had him pinned to the floor. He struggled against him, surprised at how strong the smaller boy was but he was more concerned about the other one, Balthazar, who was going through the house and Adam was upstairs asleep and unprotected. "For fucks sake, I'm not a vampire." He hissed, squirming. He grabbed hold of Gabriel's arm, conscious that vampire or not if he took a stake through the heart then he would be dead. "Gabriel, listen to me. I'm not dead." He didn't think that Gabriel was really in the mood to hear a logical, thought-out explanation of what had happened. He had come here ready to kill and Sam couldn't let that happen.

It was a clean punch to the jaw and it got Gabriel off him. Sam struggled to his feet; a momentary pang regret washing over him but Gabriel had been trying to kill him. Sam had just given him a short, sharp shock and hopefully bought himself some time. He turned, more conscious that he couldn't let Balthazar get upstairs and ran, tackling the other boy from behind and bringing them crashing down onto the floor. He dragged Balthazar's arms up behind his back, holding onto them and sat on him. "Are you going to listen to me now?" He asked, panting for breath and conscious that if they weren't he'd probably just pissed them off even more. "I am not a vampire. Throw holy water on me or something. I'll prove it to you. I'll even stand still and let you if you just stop trying to stab me!"

Balthazar was squirming, wriggling and cursing, shouting for Gabriel to stake the boy on top of him, squashing him into the floor. But Gabriel wasn't about to rush to his brother's aid, his hand clamped to his jaw, his expression far from happy. He wasn't sure if he believed Sam or not. He looked sincere and more than a little bit pissed off. That punch had been hard but not vampire-strong. And a vampire wouldn't punch, it would bite and slash, Gabriel was sure. And Sam did seem just like he had before in the comic book shop. But vampires were masters of deception, so he still held onto the stake (just in case) as he approached, looking at Sam. "Okay, if you're not one of them, how did you survive?" He questioned. After all, by Sam's own account his brother was one of the undead now and yet they'd managed to fend him off. Gabriel had never heard of anyone doing that before. Maybe Sam had some sort of gift, some sort of instinct. If he did, he was invaluable.

"Get off me!" Balthazar hissed, almost breathless at that point, clearly more concerned about not being crushed. Gabriel supposed that was reasonable. "And get off of my brother." He added, and knowing that Balthazar would protest but not caring, he carefully, slowly, put the stake on the floor. An exchange. A show of good will. He wasn't going to stake Sam as soon as Balthazar got free. Although Gabriel really, really hoped that his brother still had his own weapon, just in case.

Sam relaxed just a little as Gabriel put the stake down and backed away. "Okay." He said slowly, starting to move. "I'm going to let him go and then I'm going to stand over there," He jerked his head to the other side of the hallway. "And we'll talk." He let go of Balthazar, getting off him quickly and then crossed to the other side of the hall, away from the two brothers, putting his hands up in the air as the universal sign of surrender. His dad would probably have said Sam could fight back and he had managed to take both of them a second ago but he couldn't hold them off forever and this wasn't some stupid kid fight to see who could get blood first, this was life or death. Talking was the best course of action he had.

"Right." He said, running a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead as he tried to think how he could explain to them what had happened the night before. "Dean...he is one of them but I don't think he's turned completely, not yet. I pushed him down the stairs and that kind of stopped him. He took off to see someone, I think one of them, to try and find out what's happening but that was everything." He spread his hands wide in front of him, unable to tell them anything else because he didn't have anything else to tell. Dean hadn't killed them because he'd remembered who they were, that they were important to him, his family. He didn't think Gabriel and Balthazar would understand that.

Balthazar believed none of it, none of it at all, that much was clear as the two brothers shared a quick glance. But what other option did they have? Gabriel gave a sort of shrug and Balthazar reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, bright-green water-pistol, pulling the trigger and letting the water soak the front of Sam's shirt. There was no sudden writhing, no scream of pain, no hiss of disintegrating flesh. And Gabriel let out a breath he'd been holding.

"We had to check," He said, as if it was an apology. It was, of sorts. They weren't about to take chances. Sam would understand that. Whether it was the truth or not, whether Dean had managed to control his blood-lust Gabriel didn't know but he wasn't here now and it was daylight outside. They were safe, for the moment.

He took a second just to let his eyes wander over the front of Sam's shirt, the way the wet fabric stuck to his chest. Then he snapped himself out of it. Focus. Sam wouldn't let them stake his brother, he'd said that much, and Gabriel wanted him involved. He could help, he guessed. He was strong and quick. And have a great punch, he mentally added while rubbing at his jaw again, the dull ache fading a little. It would probably bruise but they'd had worse battle-scars in the past. A bruise from Sam wasn't bad, exactly. It was some sort of sign, proof that he could hold his own, even when the unexpected happened. And that was what they needed.

Sam gasped as the water hit him. Even if he'd said they could splash him with holy water he hadn't been expecting it and it was cold. "Thanks." He muttered, pulling his shirt away from his chest to look at it and the big wet spot spreading over the centre of it. "I told you I wasn't a vampire. Now I'm going to have to get changed." It would dry eventually but Sam didn't want to be walking around looking as if he'd missed his mouth and dribbled water all down his front for half the day. He sighed, pulling the t-shirt off and then ran up the stairs. He reappeared a few minutes later, new shirt on and made his way warily back down to Gabriel and Balthazar.

"I think," Gabriel said, once Sam had returned minus wet shirt but, on the bright side, in a t-shirt that fitted his frame perfectly. "I think we need to go see Charles." Balthazar nodded his assent, turning to go. But Gabriel hadn't moved yet. "I think Sam should come along too."

"Who's Charles?" Sam asked, tugging on the hem of the shirt. It was just a little bit too short for him now. He'd ask Adam if he wanted it when Adam finally woke up and Sam wasn't being followed around by the wonder twins. He didn't think he'd be able to cope if there was a third one of them out there, waiting to try and stake him and his family. "I was going to go to the library, look up vampire mythology." He offered but he guessed that Gabriel and Balthazar had probably done that already. Still, they were only interested in getting rid of the vampires. Sam wanted to save them.

"Charles is an Oracle." Balthazar explained, grabbing Gabriel by the arm and tugging him towards the door. He had a very good idea about what his brother had been distracted by but he had no time or patience for it now. They had a lot of work to do and now even more if the blood-sucker's brother was going to follow them around town. But he supposed there was some sense in it, other than giving Gabriel something to look at. Sometimes two people just wasn't enough and if there were as many vampires as they suspected they would need as much help as they could get.

With one more tug Balthazar had Gabriel out the front door and he assumed Sam was following behind. Their bikes had been left in the dust by the steps. "Charles will be at work. We can speak to him there." Balthazar was saying, pulling the frame up from the dirt, looking over his shoulder at his brother, and then back up, towards Sam. Gabriel was looking at him too, although Balthazar didn't want to know what might be going through his brother's mind.

"If you don't have a bike, there's no way you're going to keep up."

When Balthazar had started talking about bikes Sam had assumed he meant something like Dean's bike but these were just kids' bicycles. He couldn't hide his smile. They talked like soldiers or something but they were still just kids really. "Either of you got a licence?" He asked. "Because I have. Come on, we'll take the car. You can give me directions." They'd get there a lot faster. His dad didn't even need to know that Sam had borrowed the car. They'd probably only be gone for a little while. His dad was at work now and he'd taken the bus into town because as he'd put it he'd used up too much of the gas the night before on a wild goose chase after Adam. He probably wouldn't notice if Sam used a little more. He dashed back into the house, grabbing the keys from where his dad had left them hung up on the coat rack and then came back outside. "Just don't spill anything or mess it up. My dad will know and he'll go ballistic." Sam said seriously.

The Impala was his dad's pride and joy. He'd taught his boys to drive in it and one day he was going to pass it on to Dean who already coveted it. Sam liked the car plenty enough but he didn't really get the hard-on his dad and Dean had for it. Still, he didn't want either Gabriel or Balthazar messing it up. He climbed into the driver's seat, slipping the key into the ignition and hearing the engine purr into life. Sam set his hands on the steering wheel, fighting down the part of him that said he shouldn't be doing this. He was doing it for Dean. His dad would understand if Sam could ever make him understand past the part about vampires. "So, where does Charles work?" He asked.

Gabriel and Balthazar had looked at each other, each sizing up the competition as Sam fetched the car keys and then, without a word, there was a mad dash, Gabriel reaching the front passenger door first and climbing in, leaving Balthazar to sulk in the back. It was true, neither of them could drive. It wasn't something that had really occurred to them either. But now Gabriel could see the benefits, and from the calculating look in his brother's face, Balthazar clearly did too. They could fight vampires faster, smarter, cooler.

Sam was certainly going to be an asset.

"He works at the video store, down on the board-walk." Gabriel said, trying not to show his excitement. He might have felt a wave of embarrassment before but now he just wanted to get down there. To stride in with Sam- car keys in hand, like FBI agents on a mission. He had no doubt Charles would have information. He always did, no matter what they faced, what danger the town was in. Charles knew the way to defeat it. He was their secret weapon.

Had been their secret weapon. Now they had Sam. And Sam would probably tell his vampire brother about the Oracle.

But if all went to plan, if they could save Sam's brother, if they could get rid of the vampires, that secret was safe. Otherwise whatever unnatural creature turned up next summer would go after Charles straight away. And as useful as Charles was for information, he was no good in a fight, Gabriel was sure. And without him, they'd have real trouble.

"You don't tell anyone about Charles. You don't mention him, you don't tell them where he works or what he looks like." Gabriel said, as they rolled into the parking-lot by the board-walk. "It's good versus evil out here and he's one of the only weapons we have."

Whoever or whatever Sam had been imagining Charles would be it hadn't been so twenty-something with a five o'clock shadow, bloodshot eyes and a name tag that read "Chuck." He hung back behind Gabriel and Balthazar perfectly certain that he was never going to tell anyone that they went to get help from a guy who spent his afternoons recommending horror movies to bored teenagers. He hung his head, a bit worried that his dad would have started his shift already but it seemed they'd got there on his lunch break or maybe John was just working in the back because there was no one else in the shop apart from themselves and the guy who was currently thumbing through some B-movie titles. Sam got a flash of some of them; Curse of the Mummy's Tomb sounded plausibly good But it Came From the Drainpipe didn't really sound like it would be all that frightening.

"Hay," The guy said, not bothering to look up. "Welcome to Santa Carla Video Rental. Do you want to take advantage of our half price offer? If you rent one video, you get the other for half-price." He sounded bored. Sam couldn't blame him. If this was his job then he'd be pretty damn bored too. He didn't look like much of an oracle and Sam was really starting to doubt now that Gabriel and Balthazar would be any help to him. They might like to dress up and play at being heroes but as far as he knew they'd never actually come up against a vampire and they seemed pretty much at a loss at what to do past the staking bit.

If anything, Balthazar and Gabriel had looked over the videos on offer with just as dismissively as Sam had. But their attention quickly turned, looking Charles over as he spoke. "Our interest isn't in videos." Balthazar said, "We've come for information."

Chuck sighed. This clearly wasn't what he as hoping for out of his day. He knew the pair, they were frankly infamous. And they did keeping coming over to ask ridiculous things. If they just bothered to rent Creatures of the Night 3 half their questions on werewolves and ghouls or whatever would be answered without any involvement on his part whatsoever.

"We are going to deal with the vampire problems in town." Gabriel piped in, grabbing hold of Sam's elbow and pulling him forward, between the two brothers. "Normal methods won't work. We can't just stake them all. Sam's brother is one of them." Gabriel added with a shrug. "So we need to know how to get rid of them some other way."

They were all crazy. This Sam kid looked about as embarrassed as possible; he looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up. Chuck could remember that feeling himself. He felt very sorry for Sam, really. "That's easy. You kill the head-vampire." Wasn't it obvious? These kids just didn't watch any vampire films at all.

Gabriel and Balthazar nodded at the same time and it wasn't the first time that the two boys had freaked him out a bit. "The head-vampire. Can we stake it?"

"Stake it, behead it, burn it, holy water. Sunlight. You know the drill." They nodded again, Gabriel's fingers grabbing Sam's arm again, tugging him towards the door. "Thank you Oracle," Balthazar called, "Oh, that coven? All sorted out!"

Chuck shook his head and went back to alphabetising the horror movies until Mr Winchester came out of the break room and told him to go and sort out the romance section.

There weren't a lot of ways to kill a vampire. Holy water was an obvious one but she couldn't touch that so Anna had discarded that idea early on. A stake through the heart was another but she didn't feel that that was definite enough and there was always the chance she might miss his heart. Of course there were some things that would kill anything and most things couldn't survive if you cut off their head. The knife felt heavy in her hands but she tried not to dwell on it. Her brother's bedroom was just down the hallway and everyone else would be asleep. She'd heard them talking, heard Castiel tell Crowley just what Lucifer had done, creating another one of them and it was too much. It had been bad enough all the bloodlust, all the killing but cursing someone else to live like them was going too far. It had to be stopped.

She pushed the door to Lucifer's room open, standing there for a moment, just wanting to look at him before everything became awash with blood. He looked so peaceful when he slept, like a little golden haired angel and for a moment she faulted. He had been their favourite once, doted on and spoiled. It was far too easy to see him still as that little boy, her darling brother and not as he really was. He was a monster and she needed to stop him. No one else in the family had the courage or maybe it was lack of self-preservation that Anna possessed. She didn't care what Crowley did to her for this. She just wanted Lucifer dead and buried and with no chance of rising.

Slowly she stepped inside the room, taking a deep gulp of air and moved towards the sleeping figure so vulnerable on the bed.

Michael didn't want to go home. He didn't want to go back there, into the darkness. The house was horrible, full of dankness and death and cold. He felt it sometimes when he was reminded of his humanity. He'd dropped the boy, Adam, home and then he'd just stayed out. He'd driven down streets he'd known for over a century, the buildings and their occupants only changing vaguely, slowly over the years. Normally he didn't care, but today he did. Today it was important. And he rather liked it.

But he had to go home. Castiel was there, his family. No matter what happened, they came first. He wanted to run away, just like Adam, but he couldn't, Adam couldn't either. He had to stay with them. Lucifer, Ruby and the rest were beyond any help he could offer now but Castiel needed him more than ever to stay strong.

He left the bike outside, the metal cooling amongst the buzzing insects that made the over-grown lawns their home. Everyone inside would probably be asleep which meant he could lock himself in his room and think about something other than Adam's rueful grin when he'd stuffed his face at the diner.

He climbed the stairs, surprised to see wane light on the top landing and Luci's door open. Their brother always kept his door shut- he liked his privacy. What on earth Anna was doing in there-

Michael climbed the last few steps, a frown forming on his face as he thought he saw the light glint of something, but he was tired, maybe he was wrong, Anna was a little introverted but...

But...

She moved, suddenly, and the blade in her clenched fingers seemed to cut a trail in the air as she raised it. Michael had no idea how he crossed the space between them as fast as he did but his arms moved around her, dragging her away, out of reach, away from a fate he didn't want to try and imagine. Crowley had locked her in her room, alone, for a decade. It had broken her, changed her forever. Whatever punishment he could design for the crime of murder would be much, much worse.

Anna let out a howl of rage, thrashing in her brother's arms but Michael was stronger than her. Those years when she had had nothing to sustain her and she had withered and withered but never died had left her weak. Eventually she stopped her movements, falling limp in his arms and the knife fell from her hand, clattering on the floor. Lucifer slept on, seemingly unaware of the chaos around him, rather like always.

"Why won't you let me, Michael?" She asked, lifting her head slightly, needing her brother to hear her. "He made another one of us. He's started spreading this…this disease we all have. I can't let that happen. I have to kill him, don't you understand? It's the only way he'll ever stop now." She knew Michael wouldn't want to see it but he had to eventually. Lucifer had never stopped, not from the moment he'd awoken and now that he'd added another string to his bow what was to stop him from creating an army of them, the undead or half undead, at Lucifer's beck and call? Crowley, maybe. He was old and powerful but Lucifer was young and cunning. Crowley would be overpowered eventually. Only Anna had the conviction to make the strike that was really needed.

"He's not our brother any more, Michael." She hissed. "He's a monster. If he was a rabid dog then you'd put him down. It's a kindness. Don't you see that? I'm trying to do him a kindness."

Anna's words broke his heart. There might have been a sense to them, a horrible cold sense, much like the wicked logic Luci employed to twist the world to his will. "No, Anna," Michael forced himself to say, pulling her out and shutting the door, putting a barrier between them. It wasn't much of one- Michael could have got through it easily enough and he didn't have half the strength of the other members of their family.

But it would have to do. There was nothing else he could do for the moment apart from turn his sister around and hold her close to him, until her trembling seemed to subside. She had been, once, years ago, carefree and happy. Always quiet, but Castiel was the same. He hated Crowley for what had been done to his family but he would not see any of them killed, any of them hurt. He was trying to ignore what Anna had said, fighting against the words, but they echoed in his head until he could barely stand them anymore.

"No matter what he is, Anna, you're no killer. And I won't ever let you become one." He said, pulling away to look into her eyes, fingers easing her red hair from her falling into her face. He had wanted to head to his bed but it could wait. He had other things to do.

"Downstairs." He said, trying to get her out of her shell, helping her down the steps covered in faded carpet. "We'll make you a coffee. And I'll tell you... I'll tell you about Adam."

For a long moment Dean had no idea where he was. He'd expected to feel the press of Cas against him, flesh warm and soft against his own, gentle breaths ghosting over his skin as the boy slept with his cheek on Dean's chest. That was how he wanted to wake up, how he could imagine walking up. He'd not dreamt it; he knew it had been real. None of his fantasies, not even the one about the two blondes and the cream was as vivid as that had been. All of it was etched into his memory- the gasps and the moans, the way Castiel had pressed up against him, arched into his hand, and groaned his name. Having the boy under him, against him like that, it made Dean ache all over again, heart thumping hard in his chest. He sucked in a breath, listening to the house. Bobby's house. Yeah, that's where they were now, this was his room. There wasn't any light in the room, only stray rays from between the blinds, but it must have been the middle of the day. There wasn't any talking or shouting, any noise from Bobby's garage so they were all out. He was alone.

Dean took another breath, a slow one, and slumped back against the pillows. Weird shit was happening. He'd tried to eat Adam who probably tasted like road kill or something. He was becoming something, a monster, but Cas had forced all out that, for the moment, out of the way. He'd felt more alive with Cas then he ever had before. The hesitant, eager kisses along his throat and over his jaw, the way Cas's hips had ground against him, desperate for friction and that heat. It had made him come alive.

Okay. There was no one home. No Sam to run in asking for favours, no Adam to ask to go on the bike, no Dad to call him down for dinner. And knowing that, Dean reached down under the covers, fingers coiling around his hardening cock, stroking lazily. Cas's hand would be shy, slow, his mouth open slightly, lips wet and swollen from kisses- or from sucking Dean's cock. His fingers twitched, stroking a little harder, his head tipping back as Dean stroked himself. "Fuck, Cas" He muttered, mind's eye focusing on that, on Castiel's too-blue eyes and their dark lashes focused on him as Castiel's fingers caressed him.

Dean's thumb swept over the leaking head of his cock, feeling himself throb harder, imagining the more confident touches now, of Castiel's mouth, kissing him and bucking against him, grinding them together, that squeak of surprise Castiel would make at how hard Dean was for him. He took another breath, this one hard, shuddering down into his lungs, sure that he could feel Castiel mouth now, over his collarbones, those lips soft, beautiful. And then there would be that heat, that stretch of Castiel around him, so tight and so good that he'd been denied the night before, Castiel moving against him as Dean thrust in, filling him, cupping that prefect ass as Castiel moaned and rocked and begged for more.

It was more than Dean could stand, too much, and with another hard jerk, he came, gasping for breath, wiping his hand on the sheets and then stopping, eyes opening again. His hand.

He'd ripped a gash right through it the night before, falling down the stairs. He was sure he had. And that, well, it should have hurt, should have broken open again. But it hadn't at all. He got up, tripping over himself to get to the bathroom, washing his hands clean and looking them over in the bright-white light. No cut. No scar. No nothing. As if it had never been there at all.


End file.
